


borderline

by nep_tunne



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Angst, Blood and Violence, Crushes, Enemies to Lovers, Flirting, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Knight BadBoyHalo (Video Blogging RPF), M/M, Mentions of Death, Mutual Pining, No Smut, Pining, Prince Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Prince GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Slow Build, Slow Burn, no beta we die like men, skephalo's kinda in the background, the fact i'm writing this is an all time low, the majority of the characters are knights
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-14 06:42:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 27,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28666404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nep_tunne/pseuds/nep_tunne
Summary: -“I never wanted to be king. But for you, I can bear it. For you, I’d do anything.”-Dream and George are both princes of their respected kingdoms, which have always been close allies over the years. However, when Dream’s mother, the Emerald Kingdom’s queen, is killed unexpectedly, all evidence leads back to George’s kingdom. But as war rages between them, the two only find themselves being drawn closer to each other.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), GeorgeNotFound/Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Karl Jacobs/Sapnap, Zak Ahmed/Darryl Noveschosch
Comments: 73
Kudos: 159





	1. one.

**Author's Note:**

> SO UM tik tok kinda pushed me to write this... i've never written fanfic in my LIFE and I never thought i would so please be gentle. i'm totally open for critique but please dont rip me apart lol
> 
> **this is based on everyone's online personas. i dont condone real life shipping. if cc's find this and are uncomfortable, I wouldn't hesitate to delete it

_How did it get so bad?_

George couldn’t help but stare in utter shock at the scene before him. The castle was buzzing with frantic activity, sharp orders and fierce words ringing out and bouncing off the spacious walls of the Main Hall. Servants were darting around quickly, trying to conceal their fear as they double-checked the group of knights’ armor, who were speaking to the King and Queen, George’s parents.

“The attack could come at any moment, Your Majesty,” a very tall knight spoke up, facing the king. “It’s been rumored to strike for weeks now, and with this new development, it could be today.”

The King nodded, looking solemn. “I know. I think it’s best we form a heavy defense, and speak to the citizens to prepare for an attack now. I expect you’ll foresee this, Sir Wilbur?”

He bowed his head slightly. “Of course.”

He beckoned the group of knights huddled around him, and made their way towards the large, dark-stained wood doors. One of them, a shorter man with raven hair and a mischievous glint in his eyes, spotted George from across the large hall. Upon meeting his eyes, he turned and spoke to Wilbur in a hushed voice, who only rolled his eyes and blew him off with his hand. Before George knew it, the boy was walking straight towards him.

“Hey Georgie!” He said, throwing his arms up and extending his words. George rolled his eyes.

“Don’t call me that, Sapnap,” he muttered. But he couldn’t help but crack a smile at the sight of his friend. He’d become an amazing knight, an asset to the kingdom’s ranks. They’d grown up together, and though he was always getting George into trouble with his antics, there was no one else he’d rather call his best friend.

“Oh, my bad, Prince George,” Sapnap said, chuckling.

“You’re such an idiot,” George huffed, punching his shoulder laced in chain mail. 

Sapnap gazed at George, his smile faltering as he observed his face. George was sure he was noticing how his eyes were dark underneath from stress and lack of sleep, and how his overall demeanor had changed drastically over the last few weeks.

“Dude, you look awful,” Sapnap said, worry lacing his voice. “You’re taking this hard, aren’t you?”

George looked away, closing his eyes. Of course he was taking this hard. His kingdom was being flung into a war against their former allies, the Emerald Kingdom. For years, even before George was born, the two had worked together as allies, friends.

A year ago, when the Queen was murdered a few days after she had denied a trade deal with George’s parents, rumors spread like wildfire as to who was responsible. Many people, including King Levi, the Emerald Kingdom’s king, believed that the blame fell upon the Opal Kingdom, assuming they were bitter and angry that the deal fell through. Since then, war had raged, and the attacks had only gotten more frequent and bloody.

George was scared; he knew that Levi was grieving, and that only fueled his anger and clouded his judgement. His parents had attempted to talk reason with him when Levi stumbled into the castle, but there were no words they could say to calm the crazed king. He retracted their alliance, and swore that justice would be served, one way or another.

George had done nothing; he had no choice but to watch Levi accuse his parents of murder, and call his people a disgrace. The hardest part of it all, however, was seeing the prince of the Emerald Kingdom standing next to Levi, expressing his agreement for his father through the fiery stare he bore into George’s parents. 

He was so unfamiliar to George in that moment. His green eyes, which were piss yellow to him, were as cold and hard as ice. They were completely devoid of the playful glint that normally shined, and his carefree and relaxed demeanor was replaced by one of tension and careful control; but George could feel the anger and grief rolling off of him in waves from across the throne room. 

Dream. His best friend, next to Sapnap; the prince of the kingdom now out for George’s kingdom’s blood. 

Would Dream ever speak to him again? Would their years of friendship collapse into dust and ash? George desperately gazed at him, hoping he would catch his eye and give him something, anything, to show that they could somehow move past this.

But as Levi shouted his final words and stormed out of the room, Dream simply followed, never once looking at George. He felt a hot wave of grief rise up his throat, watching his dirty blonde hair disappear behind the closing doors.

He didn’t blame Dream for not acknowledging him. He clearly believed George’s parents killed his mother, too. Why would he want anything to do with their son? 

George didn’t realize he was crying until he felt his father’s hand on his shoulder, his own grief reflecting in his blue eyes. He leaned forward into his father’s embrace, neither of them caring that this wasn’t professional, as they were standing before their knights and other noblemen. Anyone could realize that the scene that had unfolded before them moments earlier was traumatic.

George met Dream when they were both 10. He had been forced into the throne room to watch his parents talk to King Levi and Queen Jade about their plans to settle a dispute with a rival kingdom. Being the prince and the next king one day, he had to be thrown into discussions much bigger than him, and could only listen attentively and attempt to understand what was being said.

Levi and Jade clearly had the same idea. “David, Eleana, this is Prince Clay.” Levi spoke, raising his arm towards the boy who was surprisingly tall for his age. “We thought this meeting would be a good experience for him. My sincerest apologies if you wanted this discussion to be strictly between the four of us.”

“There’s no need to apologize,” George’s mother said fondly. “Prince George will be part of our meeting as well.”

Clay looked over and met eyes with George. His lips cracked into a wide smile, and he waved at him. George stared for a moment, before slowly raising his arm and waving back.

Something about this tall, blonde boy drew George in. He seemed so different than the other royal children he’d met, who were all unnaturally polite and formal. His introduction was normal, but that’s what intrigued him so much. It was real; it made George feel that he was someone who could look beyond their statuses and see George for who he was.

He wanted to get to know Clay; he wanted to be his friend. His thoughts were so hyper focused on that fact that he missed every exchange between his parents and Clay’s.

After the meeting and George’s parents offered the three of them a meal, Clay walked up to George, looking him up and down.

“Wow, you’re short,” Clay mused.

George stifled a laugh. “Uhh… thanks?” 

Clay covered his mouth, his shoulders shaking as he let out a noise akin to a tea kettle shrieking. It was so strange sounding that George found himself laughing too.

After he calmed down, he asked, “your name’s George, right?”

He nodded. “And you’re Clay?”

Surprisingly, he shook his head. “Don’t call me that. I’m Dream.”

“Dream?” George asked in confusion.

Dream shrugged. “It’s a nickname my friends call me. Clay’s too formal, I hate it.”

“Okay,” George said, smiling. “Dream it is.”

After their first meeting, Dream returned with his parents every time they came to the Opal Kingdom, and him and George’s friendship grew. When seeing each other a couple times a month was no longer enough, they would sneak out into the woods between their two kingdoms. George even introduced Sapnap to Dream, who in turn brought his friend Bad. The four became inseparable, and George felt that he had made friends with the best people in the world.

The day Queen Jade’s death was announced was the day George’s world was flipped upside down, and the peaceful bubble he had made in the woods with his friends popped. Besides Sapnap, George’s communication was cut off from everyone.

He hadn’t seen Dream since he left the throne room for the last time, which was a little less than a year ago. He missed him, a lot. He had thought of every way he could possibly see him again, but knew he would be putting himself and his kingdom in danger if he was found on enemy grounds. On top of that, Dream clearly wanted nothing to do with George; it would be a complete waste in every way.

“George?” Sapnap’s voice shook him back to the present. 

“I miss them, Sapnap.”

George didn’t need to explain further. Sapnap knew exactly who he was talking about. “I miss them too,” he answered quietly. “But our kingdom comes first; they’re our enemies now.”

He opened his arms, and George accepted the hug with a huff. “Please… be careful today,” he murmured over his shoulder. Sapnap squeezed him harder.

George had already lost two of his best friends. He couldn’t bear to lose Sapnap too. 

As he watched Sapnap walk out the castle doors, he couldn’t help but think of Dream. 

His parents weren’t responsible for the Queen’s death, and George couldn’t help but think Dream was the only one who would listen to him.

He clenched his fists. That was it.

He had to talk to Dream.


	2. two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it’s currently 3:30 in the morning because i decided to stay up late to finish writing a chapter for a fanfic... what is happening
> 
> i like this chapter a lot more than the first though so that’s good!! i really hope this is interesting to people haha

The room was cold. The blazing heat from the summer sun couldn’t even creep into the stone brick walls. Outside, birds sang sweetly and trees were in full bloom; bright and full of life. In the castle, however, nothing but darkness and death remained.

A boy stood in the center in front of his enormous bed, shoulders tensed as he adjusted the gold crown slipping off his head. It seemed to feel ten times heavier than normal. There was nothing prestigious and honorable about being royalty; it was painful and lonely. Gazing at his obnoxiously large bed before him only amplified his isolation. As a prince, he was near the top of society; but instead, he felt completely cut off from it.

A knock from the double doors behind him jolted the boy from his thoughts. Forcing himself to relax the tension from his body, he turned.

“Come in.”

The doors swung open, revealing one of the castle servants. He stifled a sigh at the look in his eyes: admiration, respect, and fear, the last making his stomach turn. Would he ever be looked at as a person, an equal?

“Prince Clay, the King wishes to speak with you,” the servant spoke robotically, as if he’d been rehearsing those words on his way to Dream’s room.

“Thank you, tell him I’ll be there momentarily,” he replied, forcing himself to speak with the dignity he was supposed to uphold. Those eight words seemed to take everything out of him, leaving him drained and exhausted; he hadn’t even spoken to his father yet and Dream was already yearning to sink into his velvet duvet.

The servant bowed his head to Dream’s distaste, and exited the room. He exhaled a breath he didn't realize he was holding. To say Dream wasn’t looking forward to this talk would be an understatement; he was _dreading_ it. Since his mother’s death, the King had been unhinged and unpredictable, constantly lashing out and making unjust decisions. As much as Dream hated the Opal Kingdom for betraying his people and being responsible for his mother’s death, something deep in his gut told him that his father was going about it the wrong way.

Dream had also no idea what the King thought victory would entail--actually getting to the bottom of what happened and who did it? Killing the King and Queen? Or plain mass destruction? Dream was just as much in the dark as everyone else.

He took a few more grounding breaths, and finally mustered up the courage to open the doors and make his way to the throne room. He hoped the King was in one of his better moods, where he would be willing to listen to at least one word Dream would say. Most of the time, it was like speaking to a wall.

An old, unsteady, crumbling wall that could collapse and crush him at any moment.

Eventually, Dream reached the throne room, nodding at the two knights stationed there, Fundy and Callahan. They glanced at each other, both looking nervous. They hurriedly nodded back.

 _Great,_ he inwardly groaned. This was going to be bad.

The throne room was huge, as every room in the castle was. It was adorned with paintings and murals, and large, gold chandeliers hung from the arched ceiling. A velvet red carpet ran up to the throne itself, it’s overwhelming size and appearance making the King sitting there look smaller, but somehow even more intimidating. Three knights stood on either side of him, none of them glancing at Dream.

He took a deep breath. “What do you wish to speak to me about?”

The King stared at Dream through narrowed eyes. “It seems we aren’t prepared for the battle we had planned for today. We need more knights, and overall a better fighting force.”

Dream cringed. He knew what this meant. His father wanted to recruit more citizens of the villages in the kingdom to fight in his war. This stupid, stupid war, that had no direction on where it was going.

He didn’t want innocent lives to be lost. Many of the villagers have zero fighting experience; it would take a lot of time and effort to train them, and for what? For them to step onto the battlefield, and be murdered right away? These people had families—families they would never get to return to.

Dream didn’t want there to be more children without parents.

“Is there a problem, Clay?” the King’s cold words sliced through Dream’s thoughts.

“No,” Dream fought to keep his voice steady. He had to pick his words carefully; his father was in no listening mood, and if he voiced his true opinions, he would think he was being disloyal. Dream didn’t want to find out how he would react if he believed that.

“Isn’t that going to take a lot of time? We already have the upper hand; we’ve been beating them in almost every battle.”

The King gripped the side of his throne. “We would be taking this to the Opal Kingdom’s castle, the center of their land. This is something we _must_ be prepared for.”

“But—“

 _“Be quiet!”_ He roared. One of the knights visibly flinched in Dream’s periferal.

_I’m sorry you have to see this, Bad._

His friend never wanted to be a knight, let alone hold the high status King Levi granted him. He hated violence and unnecessary bloodshed, so Dream knew this war was damaging him.

He was just another poor soul sucked into serving a role he didn’t want. It was truly unfair.

The King took an aggressive, shuddering breath before continuing. “You are to go to the eastern village today and recruit the best fit. They begin training tomorrow. Is that clear? Or are you going to question me again?” The venom in his words was so strong it felt as though it had seeped through Dream’s iron armor and into his skin.

There was nothing left to do, or say. Dream held no power; he was at the mercy of the King, just as everyone else was.

Bowing his head, he muttered, “Yes, Sire,” and turned away, his order being his dismissal.

“Wait,” the King halted Dream.

“Sir Bad and Skeppy will accompany you.”

———— 

As the sun slowly sank into the sky, the three knights hauled themselves onto their horses, waiting patiently at the entrance of the village.

“King Levi should be pleased with the recruits,” Skeppy said happily. “We made great progress today.”

Dream and Bad said nothing, the former being too lost in unhappy thought to respond and the latter too anxious, running his hand through his horse’s pitch black mane.

Skeppy glanced at Bad. “Hey, cheer up,” he said as he reached over the gap between their horses and tilted Bad’s chin up. “I know this isn’t your favorite thing, but… we’re doing this for our kingdom.”

He smiled, and lowered Skeppy’s hand down, lacing their fingers together. “Thanks, Geppy,” Bad murmured.

Despite Dream’s mood, the two made his heart swell. Though he wasn’t as close with Bad anymore due to growing up and having such different lives in the kingdom, Dream could tell that through everything, Bad found solace in Skeppy. Dream was nothing but happy for them.

He cleared his throat. “Um—You guys can head back to the castle. I’m gonna take the longer way back.”

The two broke their hands apart, and turned back to Dream. “Why?” Bad asked.

“I—need to think, I guess. I’ll be fine.”

Skeppy shot Bad a worried glance, but Bad ignored it. “Okay, if you’re sure. Just be careful, you muffin.”

Dream smiled at that—he hadn’t been called ‘muffin’ by Bad in a long time. It reminded him of when they were younger, and times were simpler. Where they could run rampant around the forest with Sapnap and George, not a worry in the world.

_George._

Anger exploded in his chest at the thought of his old best friend. His parents were responsible for his mother’s death, he _knew_ it. He knew George himself didn’t do it, but it was impossible for Dream to see him the same now.

Parting ways with Bad and Skeppy, Dream turned his horse towards the treeline of the forest.

He wasn’t sure why he felt the need to go back there, but something was drawing him in. As Dream slowly guided his horse through the thickening trees, bittersweet memories crept to the forefront of his mind.

It was near sunset by the time Dream almost reached his destination—the clearing that was cut in half by the imaginary line that was the Emerald and Opal Kingdoms’ border. It was enclosed by tall birch trees, with a large boulder nestled into the soft grass. It was a place that Dream had spent endless amounts of time with his best friends, and where he and George had grown very close.

The thought of George brought the same anger he had felt earlier, but this time, it was mixed with regret. There was a time Dream valued their friendship more than anything; their midnight talks, stupid jokes, and silly antics. As he dismounted his horse, the realization of what he lost washed over Dream like a tidal wave. He had to steady himself against her as grief stabbed at his heart.

He entered the clearing and climbed onto the boulder, glad it was on his side of the border in case he had horrible luck, and someone from the Opal Kingdom spotted him.

Dream laid on his back, staring at the blood-red clouds slowly getting darker as nightfall began to creep in. He knew he should head back soon before his father noticed his absence and blamed Skeppy and Bad for letting him stay out on his own in the middle of a war, but the chill of the cold stone seeping through him was calming. He needed this.

A bush rustled. Dream opened his eyes, but waited. He heard it again. It was coming from the Opal Kingdom’s side.

 _Oh, come on,_ Dream thought. His luck had run out.

He sat up, placing his hand on his sword he had laid next to him. He watched as the bushes rustled further, and a figure stepped out. Dream’s breath hitched.

_What—no, there’s no chance._

_“George?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we got some skephalo screen time!!!


	3. three.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dream and George have an accidental confrontation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you saw me delete/repost this three times.... no you didn’t
> 
> anyways comments/critique is very much appreciated!! i hope ur enjoying the story so far

As the last few rays of the setting sun bled between the thinning trees, George stumbled through the forest. His movements were slow and unsure, as though he was lost; but he was far from that. George knew the woods like the back of his hand—every rock, every fern, every tree was familiar to him. It was fear that was holding him back.

He didn’t know if going to the clearing him and his friends spent hours upon hours in would be a good idea. It had been a safe haven when he was a child, but since things had gotten so dark and his innocence had been stripped away from him, George wondered if it would be a place of nightmares now.

Nearing the birth trees and fluffy bushes edging the clearing, George could scarcely breathe. Foreboding was coursing through his body, and his gut seemed to scream at him that this was a horrible idea. But _why_ was it such a bad idea? He had only come here to think about how he could communicate with Dream, and to calm his nerves about the war and his increasing responsibilities as prince; it shouldn’t be stressing him out. 

Taking a steadying breath, George pushed his way through the bushes and into the clearing, staring up at the jutting boulder on the right side. His eyes traveled up until he made eye contact with a boy sitting atop of it. His gaze seemed to freeze George to the ground.

_No…_

“George!”

Dream’s voice was full of emotion George couldn’t dissect. Was it shock? Joy? Anger? All three? He couldn’t tell.

“I—Dream? What the hell are you doing here?” George spluttered.

So _this_ is what his gut had clearly been warning him about. He wasn’t ready to confront Dream yet; he didn’t know what he would say to him, or how to heal their broken friendship. But it was too late now—He was right in front of George now, his fluffy blonde hair slightly illuminated at the tips by the dying sun, gripping his sword instinctively and staring down with eyes slowly hardening the longer he looked at George.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Dream muttered coldly.

George swallowed, “I—I guess I just needed to think. It’s nice coming out here sometimes.” He took a step forward, debating on pushing his luck and joining Dream on the boulder.

Dream, however, clearly wanted George nowhere near him. “Back up!” He spat. “One more step, and you’ll be trespassing onto my land.” He learned forward, gripping the edge of the stone with one hand and pointing the tip of his weapon at George with the other.

George stared at him in shock, taking a step backward to avoid getting an eye poked out. “Are you serious, Dream?”

“What do you mean, _’am I serious?’_ It’s the middle of a war, against _your_ kingdom. You have _no right_ to cross that line.”

“...Okay, I won’t,” George muttered. “But can you at _least_ get your stupid sword out out my face?”

Dream glared at him, but wordlessly obliged, retracting his blade and strapping it to his back. 

The two princes stared at each other for a long moment, awkward and angry tension so thick around them Dream could probably cut through it with his sword. Words failed George; there was so much he wanted to say, but in that moment, he had no idea where to start, or if even opening his mouth would be a good idea. The Dream staring down at him looked just like the one he had seen that awful day in the throne room—cold and angry. Would he be able to get through to him? The Dream he knew seemed so far away, so distant—George didn’t even know if he existed anymore.

“So,” George forced himself to speak, breaking the silence that was overwhelmingly loud. “How are you?”

 _What a_ stupid _question, George._

Dream thought the same. “Don’t pull that shit with me. I don’t want to hear it.” He jumped off the boulder and stood in front of George, towering over him while still leaving a gap between them—right where the invisible line of their border laid. “How do you think I am? After your parents _murdered_ my mother? Are you actually insane, George?”

He tried to fight it, but George flinched, scared of the fire that was blazing in Dream’s emerald eyes. He had seen Dream angry before when they were younger, but it was always short lived, and hardly ever directed at George. But this—this was raw, unbridled fury, and he was terrified.

“I—I’m sorry,” George stammered.

“You’re _sorry?“_ Dream shrilled. “That’s all you have to say? An apology isn’t going to fix anything. Your kingdom fucked up this time.”

“It wasn’t us!” George blurted out.

Dream had turned away after his last outburst, but snapped his head back at his words. “What do you mean? Yes it was—everything points to your parents. _They did it._ ” He said the last words like he had never been more sure of anything in his life.

“You’re such an idiot!” George threw his arms in the air, anger beginning to burn up the fear he had felt moments earlier. “You _know_ my patents. They would never murder, especially over something so petty. It was a trade deal! Those don’t work out sometimes; it’s normal in alliances.”

“It wasn’t just a _stupid trade!“_ Dream returned to his position of looming over the smaller prince. “Do you even have any idea about what was being discussed, or what the ‘deal’ was?”

George blinked. Come to think of it, he _didn’t._ He missed that meeting due to Sapnap dragging him out to watch him and Karl have a jousting match. His parents hadn’t been happy, but they were too focused on what had occurred at the Emerald Kingdom castle to do much about it. When George would ask, they gave him vague and short answers. Clearly the trade fell through, and George never gave what it was a second thought.

The silence was a good enough answer for Dream. “Your parents wanted more of our land in exchange for some of your crops and food, since we had that flood last year that wrecked a lot of farmland. My parents disagreed, because why would we do that? Give up our land? Sounds like an attempt at a power grab, if you ask me. So when it went wrong, they got angry, and turned to kill the Queen for power. I _know_ that’s what happened—and I’m _always_ right.”

___George’s eyes widened, taking in what Dream had told him. It made sense, if he put himself in his shoes. If his parents weren’t the people being accused of murder, he would agree with the blonde. But he knew better—his parents would _never_ do what they were being blamed for. _ _ _

___He had to get to the bottom of what actually happened. There were so many secrets around it all, and George was worried they were so deep he would never get to uncover them._ _ _

___“The King and Queen never even left the castle the day of the murder,” George pointed out. “I’m telling you, Dream, it wasn’t them.”_ _ _

___“Then it was one of your knights,” Dream concluded. “ _Someone_ in the Opal Kingdom did the killing, and no matter if it was direct or not, the King and Queen are ultimately responsible.”_ _ _

___George opened his mouth to defend his parents again, but the prince cut him off. “Listen, George. I don’t care what you have to say, okay? Justice will be served; your people will get what they deserve.” He turned away, walking towards the end of the clearing._ _ _

___He turned his head so he was looking over his shoulder with his back still facing the smaller prince. His armor caught the growing moonlight, turning it a bluish-silver. “You’re lucky I’m not taking you back with me. I could easily throw you in a dungeon—you didn’t even bring a weapon with you to defend yourself._ _ _

___“You can’t do that, not when I never crossed the border.”_ _ _

___“You were close enough.”_ _ _

___“Then why don’t you?” George challenged._ _ _

___Dream looked away._ _ _

___“Because it’s you.”_ _ _

___He parted the bushes on the other side, and he disappeared into the trees; it was as if the woods swallowed him whole._ _ _

___George stayed standing in the clearing for a long time, and didn’t begin to make his trek home until the nighttime autumn air began to freeze his face. His head was reeling with everything that had just happened; seeing Dream was jarring and unexpected, and his words were just as bad. The things he had said _hurt._ George missed him, the _real_ him. The Dream with the tea kettle laugh and cocky smile, and the genuinity of a village peasant and not a revered prince. _ _ _

___George got what he wanted; he talked to Dream. But instead of getting somewhere with him, he only felt more lost than before._ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dream is such a little pissbaby in this


	4. four.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bad (attempts) to knock some sense into Dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> an (almost) 2k word chapter!! hope u all enjoy
> 
> comments/critique is always appreciated!

It was pitch black by the time Dream returned to the castle. Thick clouds had begun to fill up the night sky, blocking out the moon and the stars, and gusts of wind buffeted the landscape. It was clear that fall was in full swing, and bad weather would become fairly normal.

After he had passed his horse to the stable servant and changed out of his heavy chainmail, Dream collapsed onto his bed in his chamber, waves of exhaustion and grief passing over him as he gripped his pillow and buried his face into it, groaning. His confrontation with George was unexpected, and was the last thing Dream had wanted to deal with—his day had already been stressful and upsetting enough.

Dream flipped over onto his back, staring up at the gold chandelier that hung high overhead. He half-hoped it would fall on him.

After he had stormed off from George and the clearing and mounted his horse, Dream began to feel guilt trickle through his bloodstream. He had been really, _really_ harsh to George, and even as upset, hurt, and betrayed he felt he was, he still cared about him, as much as he wished he didn’t. With the war only getting worse, there was no room for divided loyalties. And besides, how could he be friends with the boy whose parents killed his mother? It was impossible—Dream choked his guilt down.

He was so deep inside his head, replaying the scene in the clearing over and over that he almost didn’t hear the steady knock at his chamber’s door. He jumped and hastily sat up, running a hand through his wavy blonde hair. He cleared his throat, nearly choking on his words. “Come in.”

He was mentally preparing himself for some nervous servant to come in, bow in respect Dream hated he had, and be sent to see his unstable father for going off on his own without the protection of Bad and Skeppy—though he was fully capable, having plenty of knight training himself. He exhaled in relief when the door swung open, revealing a brunette boy with kind, green eyes.

“Dream!” Bad exclaimed, running into the room to stand in front of Dream, who was still on his bed, but had moved so he was sitting on the edge. “Oh, my goodness, I was so worried. You were gone for a while, are you okay?”

Dream wanted to lie, and tell Bad everything was fine. He wasn’t one for talking about his feelings; he felt like they made him weak. That’s how his father saw it, anyway. When Dream was a child, the King would always scold him for reacting in an emotional way to anything. It wasn’t “proper,” as he was told, and could easily be exploited by others. Dream had no choice but to bottle up his feelings; it was another reason why he hated being royalty. He was forced to be emotionless and controlled at all times, when he was far from that.

The only person Dream had allowed himself to put his guard down for was George. He had told him everything: the disgust he felt of his royal life, his strained relationship with his father, everything. He told him because he felt safe around George. He never judged Dream, never belittled his feelings or made him feel like they were wrong. It was incredibly relieving to _finally_ be able to discard his regal mask he was forced to wear and be honest with another person.

But George was gone now. Dream couldn’t have that comfort, not anymore. The realization broke his heart; it was so unfair. Why, of all people in the world, did it have to be _George’s parents_ who killed the Queen?

“Dream,” Bad repeated. “What’s wrong? I mean, you don’t have to tell me… I know we aren’t as close as we used to be and you’re the prince and everything, but I—“

“Bad, stop, it’s fine,” Dream cut his rambling off.

 _Fuck it,_ he thought. He trusted Bad, too, and he needed to talk to someone about his encounter with George. After all, Bad and George were friends as well—he would understand.

“You know the clearing you, me, George, and Sapnap always used to go when we were younger?” Bad slowly nodded in response. “Well, I uh… went back. And George was there.”

His eyes widened. “George was _there?_ Why? How? At the same time?” Bad’s thoughts were clearly going a mile a minute.

“Yeah, I know. It was a coincidence. A fucking horrible coincidence,” Dream muttered.

“Language.”

Dream sighed. “It’s just… I wasn’t expecting it. I haven’t seen him since I went to the Opal Kingdom’s castle with my father last year, and I didn’t _want_ to see him again. Not ever.”

Bad studied Dream’s face for a moment. “I think you did want to see him again. You miss him.”

“I don’t!” Dream protested. “How can I? His parents killed my mother!”

Bad held his emerald gaze. “But did George?”

“No, but… it doesn’t matter,” he leaned forwards and dropped his face into his hands. “Don’t you get it, Bad? It’s impossible for me to be his friend, impossible for me to miss him, even.”

Bad moved so he was sitting next to Dream on his bed. “You have every right to be angry,” he started. “But you and George… you had something special.”

Dream raised his head slowly from his hands. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, my goodness,” Bad chuckled softly. “You’re such a dense little muffin.”

When Dream just started at him, a confused look in his eyes, Bad sighed. “Dream, in all my years of knowing you, I have never seen you so happy and carefree around anyone else. Sapnap even told me he noticed the same thing in George. You _needed_ each other. And I think you still do.”

Dream’s throat closed, too emotional to speak. He looked away from Bad, staring at the wood floor and tried to gain back some composure. It was one thing to open up, but he was not about to cry in front of someone else.

“What did you say to him when you saw him today?” Bad asked gently.

“Nothing good,” Dream admitted. “I was really mean, Bad. And I mean _really_ mean.” He looked back at him. “He looked scared of me, too. Like he didn’t recognize me. Part of me wanted to stop, but I couldn’t. I just got so angry, and I took it all out on him.”

“It makes sense,” Bad nodded. “Like I said, you have every right to be angry. But George has a good heart; you know that better than anyone, I think.”

He did.

“But the war. We’re fighting against his people. I’m fighting against _him!_ And…” Dream’s stomach turned before he even said the words, “my loyalty has to come to my kingdom first.”

Bad scoffed and rolled his eyes at the mention of the war. “I think your friendship is stronger than a war.”

“No, it can’t be. It makes things too complicated, and they’re already complicated enough.”

Dream’s response was a huff. He knew Bad was getting frustrated with him, and Dream didn’t entirely blame him. But what else could he do? He, unfortunately, was the prince. He had to focus his attention on his Kingdom, and block out anything else that could get in the way of his loyalties. He didn’t even want to think about what the King would do if he found out about Dream’s conflicting feelings for the rival kingdom’s prince.

“I’m just glad you’re okay. That you’re _both_ okay. I miss George too, and Sapnap. We all had a lot of fun together,” Bad finally said.

“Yeah,” Dream muttered. “We did.”

Bad gave him a sympathetic look, and lightly patted his shoulder as he stood up. “You and George’s friendship isn’t over. I just know it isn’t.”

Dream didn’t reply, his eyes trained on a crack in one of the floor’s wood planks.

“You should get some sleep, Dream. I think that’ll help.”

Dream’s shoulders shook as he chuckled lightly. “Yeah, okay, you don’t have to baby me.”

Bad smiled, his hand on the doorknob. “Well, I’m _sorry_ that I care so much about my friend, who’s clearly sad and had a really long day.”

Dream’s heart was instantly lighter at Bad calling him “friend” and not some stupid, royal title. Bad was pretty informal with Dream when it was just the two of them, but in public settings, which were the only times they typically saw each other nowadays, he was Prince Clay.

But Dream wasn’t about to let Bad know how giddy that made him feel. Instead, he rolled his eyes and waved him away, scooting up towards the headboard of his bed and getting under his soft covers. “Goodnight, Bad.”

“Goodnight, Dream.”

The doors shut, and Dream was alone in his chamber once again. He looked out one of his large windows, which was facing towards where the Opal Kingdom was. He wondered if George got home safe, and what he was thinking.

_Stop it. Stop thinking about him. It’ll just make things harder._

But that was the _problem._ He couldn’t stop thinking about George, no matter how hard he tried not to. He willed his body to just go to sleep, so he could escape his whirling thoughts and endless worries. He tossed and turned until he saw hazy blue light filter through his windows, signaling that it was dawn, and he hadn’t gotten even a second of sleep.

He rolled over and gripped his pillow, trying desperately to stop himself from crying. He felt pathetic, yearning for a time when he was younger, sitting with George on the boulder in the clearing, not a worry in the world except for what the palace chefs were planning on making for breakfast the next day.

His innocence and happiness had died with his mother. Dream wondered if he would ever be able to revive it.

———— 

Three excruciatingly long days later, where Dream was forced to oversee villager training, have long talks of war plans with his father and his knights, and deal with his rampant thoughts, he was awoken from a sleep he had finally achieved by Fundy.

“Uh, Sir,” he began nervously. “Sorry to wake you, but… we’re under attack.”

Dream sat up, blinking sleep out of his eyes and only half-registering what the knight had said. “We’re what?”

“We’re being attacked. It seems like the Opal Kingdom decided to fight back.” Fundy repeated, looking agitated. “They’re all over the foothills. We need your assistance _now.”_

Dream scrambled out of bed, already crossing the room to where his armor hung on its stand. “I’ll be out as soon as possible. Is the rest of the army out there?”

“Only around half of them are, yes. Sir Skeppy has another group ready to send out, in case a second wave is needed.”

Dream nodded. “Perfect.”

Fundy bowed his head and left the room. For once, Dream didn’t focus on the gesture. He was _nervous,_ which was very unlike him when it came to battles. He was a talented knight, and had fought in every skirmish they had had in the war. But alarm bells were going off in his head.

_Something bad is about to happen._

But Dream couldn’t think about that now. Grasping his sword and shield in his hands, he swung open his doors, and sprinted out of the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> stan bad for clear skin
> 
> also i’m dreading writing the next chapter, fight scenes don’t seem enjoyable to write but ooooh well


	5. five.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Opal Kingdom finally strikes back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: there’s violence and blood in this chapter, so read at ur own risk if that stuff makes you uncomfortable
> 
> a 2.6k word chapter for you all!! this is the longest chapter thus far, and i would say its also the most juicy. so go crazy
> 
> **also a few things i didn’t clarify (that i don’t think i will in the story), George isn’t colorblind in this fic, and they’re all roughly around the same age (Dream and Sapnap are 20, and George and Bad are 21)
> 
> anyways comments and critique are appreciated as always!

George heaved a heavy breath as he secured his iron armor onto his body. The King and Queen had decided to use the brief pause in the Emerald Kingdom’s assault to try and get the upper hand, and to say George was terrified would be an understatement.

He wasn’t one for fighting; he had knight training, of course, but he wasn’t very skilled in the area. George was more brains than brawn, which his father assured wasn’t a bad thing at all. He knew his wits would aid him quite a lot when he becomes king.

But his mind alone wouldn’t be enough to win the battle today; he had avoided almost every fight so far, and only joined into the smaller ones. This would be the biggest battle he would fight in, especially since his kingdom were the ones to initiate it.

George shakily picked up his sword, and strapped his sheild to his arm. He looked around his room, wondering if this was the last time he would see it. He might _die_ today—he knew the risk he was taking.

He nearly jumped when his doors swung open, his parents standing in the doorway, gazing at their son with grim expressions.

“Are you ready?” The King asked. George could only nod, too choked up to speak.

George’s father crossed the room, his mother close behind, and laid his hands on George’s shoulders. “This is a big day. If all goes well, we could turn the tide of the war.” George didn’t look up to meet his gaze. “You’ll be fine, son. I believe in you.”

“We _both_ do,” the Queen spoke. “It’s okay to be nervous—it’s normal. But you’re fully capable of this.”

George didn’t respond with words, but surged forward and hugged his father, then his mother. 

“You’re fighting alongside your people, so don’t be afraid to ask for help if you need it,” the King said. He nodded at his wife, signaling that they were ready to leave.

The Queen closed her eyes, and hugged them both tightly. “Please be safe, both of you,” she whispered. George shivered, the threat of death crashing down on him once again. 

After a few more too-short moments, George and his father made their way to the front of the castle, where the rest of the knights were waiting. Wilbur bowed his head to the King, and beckoned his knights to follow him out the palace doors, towards the horse stables. 

All the knights’ horses were ready for the fight, adorned with opal-studded iron armor. George stroked his horse’s black nose before placing his foot in the stirrup and hauling himself onto him. 

When all the knights were on horseback out of the stables, the King turned to face the rest of the knights, followed closely behind by Wilbur. 

“Today is a very important day,” he began, voice carrying through the wind that was blowing harshly, packed with authority. “I trust each and every one of you wholeheartedly, and know you’ll put your all into this battle. Victory _will_ be ours today!” 

The knights lifted their swords in the air, hollering in agreement. George lifted his sword, too, a flash of pride for his father burning through him. As much as he was bothered by the constant attention and respect he was shown by others that he didn’t feel he deserved, it touched his heart seeing how much his father was trusted by his people. George hoped he would be trusted in that way when he became king, too.

The King quickly turned his horse, and bounded away across the field. The knights followed suit, pushing their horses to gallop through the wind-swept grass. Adrenaline and nerves coursed through George’s blood. _This is really happening. Right now,_ he thought to himself. 

He felt a presence at his left side, and turned to look at Sapnap, racing beside him on his black and white stallion. 

“You ready to kick some ass?” Sapnap yelled, a shit-eating grin on his face. “I know me and Panda are,” he stroked his hand through his horse’s maine.

“I guess?” George laughed, attempting to focus on Sapnap and his cheery mood to cope with his nervousness.

“Oh, come on! Where’s the _spirit?_ No, you’re _so_ ready for this, George.”

“Okay, okay, I’m so ready for this,” he repeated, trying to believe it himself.

Sapnap reached and punched George’s covered shoulder. “Yeah you are!”

Before George knew it, they had run through the thinned stretch of the forest and over the border and had halted on a hill, overlooking acres of a sloped moor. The wind only seemed to pick up, slicing into George’s face and sending shivers down his spine—but it wasn’t just from the cold. They were here; they were ready.

The tops of the Emerald Castle were just barely visible behind the towering trees that stood on the other side of the moor, and George cringed. _Dream is there,_ he thought to himself. Did he have any idea what was about to happen? Would he be a part of this battle too, when his knights were alerted of the Opal Kingdom’s presence? 

Would George have to fight him?

As if he wasn’t stressed enough already, the thought alone made him want to turn back and run home. How could he fight Dream, his old best friend that he still cared so much about, despite everything?

George knew that Dream would have no second thoughts about attacking him. He had made it, clear as day, that he wanted nothing to do with George. 

_Justice will be served,_ Dream’s angry, parting words rang in George’s ears. He breathed in a shaky breath. This wasn’t going to be an easy victory, if they even got one.

The army waited at the top of the hill for what felt like eons until blurry shapes started to appear from the treeline across the fields. George’s eyes widened—there were so many troops. When he thought all of them had emerged, even more poured out. He gulped and looked over at Sapnap.

His eyes were ablaze, staring out at the Emerald army. He tightened the cloth around his head, and put on his helmet. George quickly did the same, along with the rest of the knights.

The shapes began to get closer, and their voices became louder. Wilbur surged forward, turning his head around quickly. “Attack!”

George gave his horse a slight kick and snapped the reins, running closely behind Sapnap as they prepared to clash with the opposing knights. He drew his sword.

_This is it. Don’t pussy out, George._

He ran past an Emerald knight, his sword bouncing off iron armor. As he did so, the sound of yelling, armor clanking, and horse hooves exploded around him. He turned his horse, and faced the enemy knight. George couldn’t see who he was, but it wasn’t Dream; he was shorter, and his horse was brown, not white.

The knight charged at him again, striking George in the shoulder. He had landed the hit between the plates on George’s shoulder and arm, but the thin chainmail and cloth underneath buffered the blow from being serious. However, it was enough to knock him slightly off balance, leading him to simply swing at midair.

He was hit again. And again. George had no time to steady himself on his saddle and prepare a blow himself. A few more swings of the knight’s sword and George would be flung to the ground, giving him not only a disadvantage, but at risk of being stepped on by a horse. He started to panic.

As the knight raised his sword, he was suddenly pushed aggressively to the ground, his horse stumbling at the weight that had been thrown against it.

Sapnap lifted his helmet slightly, gazing at George triumphantly.

“Sorry Georgie, but it looked like you needed some help.”

George was secretly _very_ grateful for Sapnap’s involvement in his fight, but he wasn’t going to let him know that. “I did _not,”_ he scoffed.

“Sure you didn’t!” Sapnap crowed, placing his helmet back on. 

“You’re such an idiot.”

“Just fight by me,” Sapnap said, “so I can save your sorry ass if I need to.”

George rolled his eyes, even though Sapnap couldn’t see through his helmet. “You’re the worst,” but was relieved at the prospect of fighting alongside his best friend. 

The Opal Kingdom was being pushed back, to George’s dismay. Horseback fights were still occurring, but many had fallen and were attacking on foot. He looked around quickly, eyes darting between the opposing knights.

There was no sign of Dream; had he not come at all? George desperately hoped he stayed behind.

After a few more duels alongside Sapnap, he noticed _they_ were now the ones pushing back. George noticed horses and men sprinting back towards the Emerald castle, while the ones still holding their ground were fighting back with less vigor. 

George was about to join in on Sapnap’s cry of victory as he knocked a knight out of his saddle, but something caught his eye through the thick of the fighting.

Two men were fighting on foot, isolated from the majority of the battle. The Opal knight was Karl, easily identifiable with his helmet gone. His armor was damaged, and his face was covered in dirt and blood, a deep slash above his eye. The other was in a similar state, but his helmet was still on.

Karl knocked the Emerald knight to the ground, causing him to lose his grip on his sword. Defenseless, he attempted to kick Karl’s legs out from under him, but to no avail. He loomed over his enemy, striking his sword between the plates of his armor and into his chest.

He instinctively gripped the blade of Karl’s sword as it dug into him, straining his neck up until it was pulled out of him. When his head hit the ground, his helmet budged, exposing his chin and mouth. George froze.

_Dream!_

He dragged his eyes up to look at Karl. His eyes were hooded, his mouth open as he gasped for air, and stared at Dream’s unmoving body—he clearly won the fight. After a moment, Karl turned away from him, and disappeared into the fighting.

George frantically looked over at Sapnap, but realized he was nowhere to be seen. He knew he needed to ignore Dream and keep fighting—he was the Emerald Kingdom’s _prince,_ after all; his death would surely bring the Opal Kingdom victory. 

But George knew he couldn’t leave him there, despite his common sense telling him he was betraying his people by doing it. Taking a deep breath, he beckoned his horse to move towards the outskirts of the fight. Dismounting him, George collapsed beside Dream, tugging his helmet off of his head fully.

Dream’s eyes were shut, and his wavy blonde hair was strewn underneath his head, damp with sweat. His lips were parted slightly, blood trickling out of them. George pressed two fingers against Dream’s throat, feeling for a pulse. He breathed a sigh of relief, feeling slight, weak thumps underneath his touch. He was still alive. 

George hastily stood up and grabbed Dream’s arms, slowly dragging him through the treeline of the forest. He was terrified he would open up Dream’s wound more, but he had to get him out of anyone’s line of sight. If anyone saw George, he would be screwed; his actions were straight treachery.

He rested Dream against a large oak tree, taking off his own helmet and forcing Dream’s chestplate apart to get a better look at the gash. The iron and chainmail had helped cushion the blow somewhat, but Karl had still managed to get him _bad._

George ripped part of Dream’s undershirt off and pressed it hard against the wound, attempting to staunch the bleeding. It was soaked completely through almost immediately, and George’s fear spiked. He pushed harder, and involuntarily leaned his sweaty forehead against Dream’s. 

“Don’t die on me, damnit,” he whispered. George’s recent argument with him seemed to fade, and the distance that had grown between them in the past year closed up. All that mattered was Dream’s life. George _had_ to save him.

He felt eyelashes flicker and slightly tickle the skin around his eyebrows. George leaned back quickly. “Dream?”

Dream’s eyes were half closed, but he was staring at George with a look of pain and confusion. He coughed weakly, breath coming in shallow gasps. “...George?”

Before George could say anything, Dream’s eyes rolled back and his head lulled to the side. His breathing slowed once again as he slipped back into unconsciousness. It all happened so fast that George wondered if he imagined him waking up.

He tugged another piece of Dream’s shirt off and discarded the old one, resuming the pressure he had been applying. It soaked through at a much slower pace, to George’s relief. 

George knew that there was only so much he could do; Dream needed proper medical attention as soon as possible. But how could he get him that help? If anyone saw him, the Opal prince, helping the Emerald prince, he would infuriate his father and be a let down to his people. 

His head reeling as he adjusted his position, he suddenly tensed at the sound of ferns rustling.

“Dream?”

_Bad?_

The rustling and footsteps got louder, and George knew Bad would stumble out at any moment to find him with Dream. He turned quickly, locating a bush behind him and pushing his body into it.

Peeking in between the leaves, he saw the knight walk beside the oak, looking around until his gaze met Dream collapsed against it. “What the muffin—Dream!”

He crouched beside him, frantically observing his wound. 

“Skeppy! He’s over here!” Bad yelled, and a second knight quickly emerged to kneel on the other side of Dream. 

“Grab his legs. We need to carry him back,” Skeppy said as he snaked his arms underneath Dream’s, preparing to lift him up. Bad did as he was told, and together the two raised Dream’s unconscious body off the ground. 

George released a breath he didn’t realize he was holding as they disappeared from sight, and their footsteps subsided. Dream was in safe hands now.

He slowly crawled out from under the bush, and stood up. Stumbling out from the forest, he saw Sapnap on his horse, beside George’s. His helmet was off, and his face was creased with worry.

“Sapnap,” George rasped. “I’m over here.”

He looked over, his worry replaced with relief. “Oh my God, where were you? I thought we were fighting together!” He dropped the reins of George’s horse as he got nearer. “And, wait—what were you doing in the forest?”

_Oh, nothing, just saving our enemy’s next-in-line._

“I, uh, chased a knight through there,” George said instead as he heaved himself onto his horse, waiting for Sapnap to call him out on his lie. 

But he clearly had other things to talk about. Completely ignoring George, he exclaimed, “we won! I’m honestly shocked we did, especially when Skeppy sent in that second wave…” 

Sapnap’s voice began to fade into whitenoise as George followed him up the slope to meet the rest of the army, his thoughts traveling back to Dream.

Even if they had lost this fight, it would still be a victory in George’s eyes—he saved Dream, and that’s all that mattered to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> karl.. why’d you gotta stab dream bro


	6. six.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bad puts the pieces together while Dream falls apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol i hate this chapter but take it anyway
> 
> make sure you read the end notes for info about my uploading schedule
> 
> hope you enjoy!

A sharp, throbbing pain in his abdomen jolted Dream from his sleep. Groggily opening his eyes, he took in his surroundings, waiting for the fuzziness to fade from his vision. Blinking a few times, Dream realized he was in his room again, laying on the left side of his bed. Sunlight filtered through his windows, bright and almost painful to Dream’s still-sensitive eyes.

_How did I get here?_

He vaguely remembered the battle—the clang of iron on iron, the rush of adrenaline that had coursed through his body, and—

Dream froze as the final battle he had against that Opal knight washed over him. _I lost the fight. How did I lose? I_ never _lose._

How had he been knocked over so easily? The knight had thrown Dream onto the ground like he weighed nothing, like he wasn’t even a challenge. He had never been outdone like that before, not in battle, not even in training. He clenched his fists, anger and embarrassment flooding his senses. He nearly _died._ Glancing down at his stomach, he gingerly placed a hand on the freshly-bandaged wound through his white, silk shirt he was now somehow wearing. He winced at the touch, pulling his hand back with a hiss.

As soon as the blade of the sword plunged into Dream’s stomach, he had lost consciousness; he had no recollection of anything afterward. One moment he was laying on the ground, impaled, and the next, he was laying in his chamber.

 _How long have I been asleep?_ Dream panicked. Anxiety wormed its way into his chest, the large, empty room suddenly ten times bigger and colder. 

“Hello?” Dream croaked, hoping there were knights guarding his door and would hear him. He would be surprised if there _weren’t;_ he was the prince, and he almost died. It would be strange if he was left completely alone, especially since he had been unconscious. 

His suspicions were proven correct when the doors opened, revealing Skeppy and Bad. Bad’s eyes were lit up as he made eye contact with his friend, and ran to his side of the bed. Skeppy followed close behind, but with less enthusiasm. However, it was evident he was relieved Dream was okay, too.

“Oh, thank goodness you’re awake!” Bad exclaimed. “Everyone's been so worried about you after Skeppy and I brought you back to the castle. Ant had to stay up all night treating your wounds, and—“

Dream’s head spun. Loss of blood and the utter exhaustion he felt dragging him down, despite the amount of sleep he had gotten, was making him overwhelmed and irritable. “Slow down, Bad,” he muttered. 

“Sorry, I’m just so happy you’re okay!” He reached over and hugged Dream, making him wince.

Skeppy put a hand on Bad’s shoulder and gently nudged him backward, away from Dream. “Give him some space.”

Bad reluctantly let himself be pulled off of Dream, but stayed kneeled beside him.

Dream looked from Bad to Skeppy. “So, what exactly… happened?”

“After we had to retreat, Bad spotted your helmet,” Skeppy began. “There was a trail of blood leading to the forest, so we assumed you were there. Bad found you against a tree, and we carried you home.”

Dream narrowed his eyes. They found him in the _forest?_ But he had collapsed in the field—how did he end up there?

Skeppy raised an eyebrow at Dream’s confused expression. “What?”

“I fought that Opal knight in the field, where the rest of the battle was. That’s where I passed out. How did I…?” Dream trailed off, trying to desperately remember what else happened that day. 

“Someone probably found you, and helped you.”

Dream struggled to sit up at Bad’s words. Why would someone help him, in the middle of a battle? It was pretty rare for knights to check the fallen until after the fight was over, _and_ he remembered he had been in a secluded area when he passed out. If Bad was right, then someone must have been actively looking for him during the battle. 

The possibility made less and less sense the longer Dream thought about it, and Skeppy seemed to read his thoughts. “I don’t think so. We usually don’t treat the wounded until _after_ battles.”

“Okay, first of all, Dream was all propped up against the tree like he was sleeping or something, and Ant said that the bleeding had already been stopped mostly when he got home,” Bad retorted to Skeppy, turning his head to look up at him. 

“It probably just naturally slowed down.”

“Not a wound _that_ big!”

Dream, for once, was glad he had authority. He threw his head back against his pillow and covered his eyes with his hands in frustration as the couple shot back and forth. “Can you both _please_ shut up?” The two argued like an old married couple. If they weren’t being sappy with each other, they were bickering over something. There was no in-between. “It doesn’t matter what happened, okay? I’m okay. I’m alive, and everything’s fine.”

“But it _does_ matter,” Bad insisted.

“Why was no one with Dream, then, when we found him?” Skeppy asked.

 _”Exactly!”_ Bad practically leapt to his feet. “Why would someone help the _prince,_ just to leave him?”

Dream and Skeppy didn’t say a word, and stared at Bad. What was he getting at?

“I think,” Bad continued proudly, “that an Opal knight saved you, Dream. And I think I know _exactly_ which one it was.”

Dream’s mouth fell open for a moment. He knew who Bad was insinuating, but he didn’t know if he believed it. 

_Did_ George _save me?_

But why? George owed Dream nothing, and after their fight in the clearing, he expected George to hate him. If he saved Dream, that made him a traitor to his kingdom. And why would anyone, let alone the prince, risk their life for the enemy?

“Oh, come on now,” he scoffed. “There’s no chance, Bad. Why would he do that?”

“I told you, your friendship isn’t over with him yet. He still cares about you, and you still care about him.”

Skeppy flicked his focus back and forth between Dream and Bad, his confusion only growing. “I’m sorry, _who_ are we talking about right now?” Bad looked over at him, still smiling but not answering him. Skeppy blinked, “wait, are you saying you think it was _George?”_

Dream felt a bolt of worry strike him when Skeppy guessed George’s name, but relaxed when he realized most of the citizens within the castle walls were aware of the close relationship Dream used to have with George. Besides, Bad had been close with both of them; he probably mentioned a lot of it to Skeppy.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying. He couldn’t risk being seen, so he disappeared when he heard us coming.” He tapped his head a few times. “Big brain.”

Skeppy shuffled his feet and bit his cheek. “You could be right… But I still don’t know. Saying the Opal prince is a traitor is quite the accusation.”

Suddenly uncomfortable with talking about George’s loyalty, Dream cleared his throat. “Again, it doesn’t matter. There’s not enough evidence to back up it was him, so let’s just drop it.”

“But—“ Bad began.

“Just _drop it!”_ Dream ordered. 

Bad flinched, looking hurt. Dream immediately regretted snapping at him, but the conversation was striking a nerve. He didn’t want to think about what George saving him meant, if it was true—it would only add another layer to their broken friendship.

Skeppy seemed to sense Dream’s shift in demeanor, and nudged Bad towards the door. “Let’s just let him rest,” he murmured to him. He turned to Dream. “We’ll fetch Ant to check on your injury, and let the King know you’re awake. I’m thankful you’re okay, sir.”

The doors shut behind them. “Don’t call me that,” Dream whispered under his breath.

He closed his eyes, allowing himself to sink further into his sheets. Dream imagined George hovering next to him, the two of them alone in a forest while war raged around them, taking care of him and creating a bubble of peace where they were finally safe. 

Dream snapped his eyes open.

_George, George… what are you doing to me?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so as you may have noticed, i don’t have a set schedule for when i post chapters. i write a chapter when i have time and i’m motivated (which is usually super late at night) and then i post it as soon as i’m done. so that being said, i never know when the next chapter will be out


	7. seven.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George admits his actions to Sapnap, and he makes a choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heyyy, um i’m sorry it’s been a week since i’ve last updated this djendnwn ive been super busy and pretty unmotivated to write, but i had some time today so i finally whipped this up
> 
> i hope you all enjoy!!

Three days had passed since the battle. The entirety of the castle was high off the victory, celebrating with large feasts and extensive amounts of alcohol. Sapnap had dragged George to every celebration, but he couldn’t get himself to enjoy himself and bask in the afterglow of the win—instead, he was completely ridden with guilt and fear.

Dream could be dead. George had no idea if he made it back to his castle alive, or if he died when he got there. The thought terrified him, and George couldn’t push it away.

He knew that what he did was wrong, at least in the eyes of his kingdom. Every night since he had tossed and turned, wondering if he should’ve just left Dream there to avoid the guilt gnawing through his gut. But every time he thought about Dream, laying dead on the field, the pain was sharper and more painful than the shame—so he attempted to convince himself he was right.

So George stood in the large hall, idly sipping on beer that seemed to taste even worse than normal, reeling as the knights around him drunkenly talked—or rather yelled—amongst themselves. Sapnap had given up convincing George to lighten up and actually party for once, and had ditched him to talk to Karl and Quackity.

It was difficult for George to look at Karl without feeling anger bubble into his chest. Gazing at him now, his brown hair fluffy and eyes bright and glassy from the alcohol, George couldn’t help but remember how different he had looked that day on the battlefield as he struck down the Emerald prince.

Did he have any idea what he did, both to Dream _and_ George? Would he have killed Dream, if he had known it was him? George didn’t know what he would do if Karl killed him.

Suddenly feeling extremely overwhelmed, George turned and shouldered his way through the crowds, attempting to politely smile at those who bowed their heads at his presence. The gestures and masses of people only heightened his anxiety, and George knew he needed to get out of the castle before he lost his carefully held composure.

Avoiding the main hallways where the majority of the guests were, George crossed to the opposite side of the castle, where he could leave without being seen. It was unprofessional and improper for the prince to leave during an event, but George didn’t give a shit about formalities at the moment.

He trudged across the small field and into the stables, ignoring the stable keeper as he clambered onto his horse.

“Prince George,” the keeper said, “are you—?”

George didn’t hear the rest of his sentence as his horse pelted through the stable doors, and he rode blindly into the night.

———— 

The thin, crescent moon was high overhead by the time George slowed his horse to a stop at an all-too familiar clearing. He hadn’t meant to come here; he didn’t even know where he was going in the first place.

Unlike last time, the clearing was empty. George expected this, but he couldn’t help but wish as he looked up at the boulder that there was a tall, blonde boy waiting for him.

Dismounting his horse, George crossed the border and climbed onto the rock and laid back, laying his crown he had forgotten to leave in his chamber by his side and staring up at the stars, observing the way they seemed to wink at him.

It was jarring stargazing on the boulder without Dream. George turned his head, half expecting to see his face next to him, with features softly lit by the moon’s glow and deep green eyes focused on the sky above.

But Dream wasn’t here. He might not even be _alive._

 _What if it was all for nothing?_ George thought wretchedly. _Risking my own life for his, if he didn’t even make it back?_

But the more George thought, the more he knew he’d do it one hundred times over. If there was even a slight chance Dream could he saved, he’d take the risk.

George had started to doze off when he heard rustling, and his horse let out a soft whinny. He instantly opened his eyes and sat upright, cursing himself for leaving his sword behind. If it was someone from the Emerald Kingdom, he was royally screwed—the boulder was on their side. Listening harder, George relaxed slightly when he realized the sound was coming from his side of the border, and felt the tension flee from his body completely when he saw who stumbled through.

“Sapnap, what the hell are you doing here?”

Sapnap didn’t answer right away, lowering his head and placing his hands on his knees as he struggled to breathe. His raven-black hair was slicked back and the cloth around his head was loose, threatening to fall off.

“Did you _run_ here?” George asked, shocked at the state of his friend.

He raised his head, and let out a breathy laugh. “Maybe.”

After a few more moments, Sapnap joined George on the boulder, raising his eyes to the sky before turning back to face George. “So, are you gonna explain why you ditched the party and ran out here?”

“What are you, my dad?”

“Yeah, your _daddy._ ”

“What the _hell,_ Sapnap! You’re disgusting!” George shrieked as Sapnap doubled over in laughter.

“Okay, okay, actually,” Sapnap spluttered out. “Why are you out here?”

George shrugged, looking away. “You know how I feel about parties, and crowds. They stress me out, and I wanted to leave.” That was true—but it wasn’t the _whole_ truth. He didn’t want to explain to Sapnap the guilt had been driving him, making him feel like a traitor to his people. If he knew what George did, he would most likely get angry with him. Dream and Sapnap had become close as kids, but George knew Sapnap was loyal to his kingdom before anything else. “Did you follow me out?”

“No, I noticed you left and figured you went on one of your little night rides, so I went to the stables to check if your horse was gone, and the keeper told me which way you went. He was _freaking_ out,” Sapnap explained.

“Shit,” George muttered. “Do you think he’ll tell the King?”

“Probably, but it’s fine. As long as you’re okay, which you are, he shouldn’t care, right?”

“Well, yeah, but I don’t want him to think I got captured or something and freak him out. We might have to go back soon, then,” George sighed.

Sapnap scoffed. “Nah, we’re _fine._ Stop worrying, Georgie. It’s all you’ve been doing recently.”

George knew he was trying to make a joke, but his words sent him tumbling over the edge. Of _course_ he was stressed—Sapnap had no idea what he had been dealing with the last few days.

Sapnap clearly realized the shift in George’s mood. “Hey man, I was kidding. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—“

“It’s _fine,_ Sapnap. Don’t worry about it,” George muttered as he mindlessly picked at the fabric of his linen shirt to avoid meeting Sapnap’s eyes.

“But it’s _not_ fine,” Sapnap insisted. “I know you’re the prince, or whatever, and you deal with a lot of shit I don’t really understand, but as your friend _and_ knight, I want to help you. So _please_ tell me what’s wrong, because I know it’s not just because of a stupid party.”

George slowly raised his eyes and looked at Sapnap’s. They were darkened with worry, a stark contrast of his usual cheery, confident demeanor. He wasn’t going to let George leave this conversation without fessing up, he knew, so he breathed in a shaky breath, and admitted to his crime.

“I saved Dream during the battle.”

Sapnap sat up, the hand running through his long hair stilling. “You did _what?_ ”

George flinched at his tone. “I know, I know, but I couldn’t just let him die!”

“He’s the enemy’s _prince,_ George!” Sapnap nearly shouted.

“He was my best friend!”

He looked away, closing his eyes. “He was mine too,” Sapnap murmured. “But we can’t let friendships get in the way right now. His kingdom is out to get us. _He’s_ out to get us! We don’t mean anything to him anymore.” The last sentence came out as a whisper.

George didn’t say anything for a long moment. He hadn’t even told Sapnap about how he had seen Dream just days before, right where he was sitting. If he explained that encounter to Sapnap too, it would only prove him right: Dream didn’t care about George anymore.

“I don’t care how he feels about me,” he breathed. “I _saved_ him. After everything we’ve been through, I couldn’t leave him there.”

Sapnap took a deep breath. “I get it, George, I really do. But this is _dangerous!_ What if you got caught? You can’t be divided like this; your loyalty should be here, with your kingdom.”

Anger pooled in George’s stomach. “I know that! And I _am_ loyal.”

“I know you are. But what you did wasn’t,” Sapnap pointed out. “I’m just looking out for you. You could _literally_ be executed if you get caught. Your father would have no choice.”

“I know,” George shuttered at the thought of being thrown in a dungeon, just to be killed in front of crowds of people; and he _knew_ people would show up. The _prince,_ being executed for treason? No one would want to miss that.

The two were quiet for a long moment, looking down at the ground and listening to the faraway crickets chirping in the silent night. George’s hand traveled, feeling the side of the boulder until the pads of his fingers brushed against a notch in the rock. Sapnap followed his movements with his eyes. “They're still there?”

“Obviously, Sapnap. It’s _rock.”_

He chuckled softly, placing his palms down behind him and leaning back. “I completely forgot we did that.”

“Yeah,” George said as he followed the notch’s lines, tracing it with his finger. “Me too.”

He laid his hand over two of the marks, a thought coming to him. He swallowed. “Did you bring a dagger?”

“Duh,” Sapnap said. “Why?”

“Give it to me.”

“Oh, of course, _your highness,_ ” Sapnap joked as he placed the blade in George’s hands. “Anything else I can assist you with, sir?”

“Shut up,” George rolled his eyes. He leaned forward and shakily rested the dagger atop of the marks. Taking a deep breath, he ran it continuously over them until there was a deep line crossing over the notches.

Sapnap said nothing, just stared at George in shock as he sat back up, handing the now dull weapon back to its owner. “D-did you just—?”

“Yes,” George cut him off. “You’re right. I need to stay loyal to the Opal Kingdom. I…” He swallowed, trying to quell his emotions. “I need to move on from him.”

He placed his crown back on and hopped off of the boulder without another word, making his way to his horse. Sapnap stayed where he was for a moment before slowly following.

A jagged line now ran through the carefully carved “D” and “G” on the side of the stone, just above the unmarked “S” and “B.”

George had made his choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i haven’t said explicitly until now, but sapnap is george’s personal knight. it’s pretty implied in the fight scenes in chap. 5, but yeah i never said it lol
> 
> comments/feedback is always appreciated!! thanks for reading<3


	8. eight.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dream recovers and is thrown into a mission that could be a deathtrap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it’s 3am and i wrote this in like 2 and a half hours. there’s probably a bunch of typos so i’m v sorry if this chapter is absolute ass
> 
> hope u enjoy anyway ahahah

Dream was growing more and more agitated as the days slowly ticked by. His wound was healing slowly, and Ant had given him strict orders to rest as much as possible, to his father’s annoyance. The King was already infuriated with Dream for getting so injured during the battle, making it very clear that he thought Dream was weak; being forced to be bedridden wasn’t making things easier.

The conversation he had had with Bad and Skeppy ran through Dream’s brain on loop, and the longer he laid on his bed, the more confused he felt. 

He was resting his body, sure, but his head couldn’t catch a break.

Dream wanted to do something, _anything_ , to get answers out of George, but all of his options were risky—and would he even be listened to? What if he was _wrong?_

 _I’m never wrong!_ Dream’s own words reverberated in his head, the same ones he had said to George that night, and he cringed at himself; he wasn’t one to swallow his pride, so that was _not_ something he wanted to think about. 

The day Ant finally gave him the clear, Dream wanted to kiss him or cry in relief or both. He was sick of analyzing the grooves and cracks on his wooden floors, and even his conversations with Bad when he visited were making him frustrated. Dream never thought he would look forward to a meeting with his father and the royal guard, but after days of laying around, nothing had ever seemed so exciting. 

“Look who finally decided to show up,” the King sneered as he entered the hall. “Feeling better after all of your beauty rest?”

Dream said nothing, shooting him a glare as he took his place. The other knights looked away from him, keeping their heads down with awkward expressions creasing their faces. Only Bad looked at him, his eyes soft and welcoming. Dream focused on him instead of the cold presence of his father.

“You’ve missed quite a lot since the last time you were here, Clay. We lost the last battle, so you better focus this time and put in the effort,” he continued.

Dream, still, kept his mouth shut. He knew how his father worked: he _loved_ striking at Dream’s nerves, and he knew almost every single one of them. He used to think it was a test, to see how much he could take before he snapped, but the more Dream analyzed it, the more he realized his father genuinely disliked him. 

_Keep your fucking composure,_ he thought as he placed his palms down on the wooden table, attempting to ground himself and calm the anger and hurt pooling inside of him. 

He felt eyes staring him down, and looked up to meet a glare almost as icy as the King’s.

It was Techno, one of the Emerald Kingdom’s strongest knights, and he _knew_ it. He was nearly as tall as Dream, with long hair and a face littered with scars. He was the newest member of the royal court, only being added to it over a year ago. He wasn’t much of a talker, and all Dream really knew about him was that he wasn’t very fond of him.

If the look Techno was giving him now wasn’t enough proof of that, he didn’t know what would be. Dream felt like he was being burnt alive, and it made him want to shrink into himself more than being publicly mocked by the King had.

Doing his best to ignore Techno, Dream stood up straight, saying, “one battle isn’t the end of the war. We can easily come back from it.”

The King’s eyes blazed. “Failure is _failure!_ I will _not_ accept losses, and neither should you!”

Could he control his temper for _two seconds?_ It was honestly embarrassing, and Dream could tell he wasn't the only one in the room with those thoughts. These meetings were steadily turning into father and son squabbles instead of discussions with the most elite group in the castle. 

One of the knights, Punz, spoke up. “Your highness,” he began, addressing the King in an overly-respectful tone, one that made Dream want to vomit, “I think we should consider planning the final attack, and secure the victory once and for all.”

“They won’t be expecting it either. I think they believe it was an empty threat,” Fundy agreed.

“I agree with you both,” the King said, finally sounding as though he’d gained some sanity back. “This battle has been _long_ awaited, but we need to be sure that it’s properly executed. Luckily, Prince Clay and I especially know the Opal Castle quite well, so planning where we’ll strike shouldn’t be too hard. 

“However, we need to be _absolutely_ accurate and precise with where we strike. So, Clay, I’m going to send you and a band of knights on a mission to spy, and route all the best areas to strike and escape if need be.”

Dream froze. _Never mind,_ he thought. _He’s lost it._

“Sir Bad, Techno, and Fundy,” Dream’s father continued. “You’ll go with Prince Clay tomorrow night. The rest of you will continue to focus on training and preparing for the upcoming battle.”

The knights all bowed their heads, almost in unison. For the second time that day, Dream wanted to throw up. “Is that _clear?_ ” the King hissed at him when he didn’t show the same obedience.

“Yes,” Dream muttered, staring into space to avoid eye contact.

“It better be. Don’t disappoint me again,” he spoke softly, in a voice so chilling Dream wondered if he would’ve rather been screamed at. He tried not to flinch. 

“You’re all dismissed. Go to your duties.”

Before anyone could move, Dream turned and left the room, his head spinning with the events of the meeting. 

He was to _spy?_ Go into the enemy’s land, the _very center_ of it, with three other knights by his side? It was a _castle;_ it would be heavily guarded with knights, and if even one of them were spotted, they’d all be killed. Had his father thought this plan through at _all?_ Based on his prior decisions during the war, Dream doubted it.

He blindly stumbled out of the castle, the harsh sunlight hurting his eyes. Dozens of people were scattered around, riding in chariots and talking amongst themselves as though they weren’t aware they were deep in a war. Dream wished, for the umpteenth time, he were like them, and that their fate didn’t rest on his shoulders. Clenching his fists and practically shoving himself past those in his path, he left the castle grounds and made his way into the woods.

Long walks and fresh air always calmed Dream down, but being denied it for so long made it feel ten times more riveting. The autumn air was bitter cold, but Dream welcomed the sting it brought to his lungs with each inhale. 

He found his feet taking him to the border in the clearing. Parting the bushes, he took in the familiar surroundings, relishing in the feeling of the sun against his back. Everything was as it always was here—it was forever unchanging, no matter what occurred on both sides of the invisible line. 

Or, so Dream thought.

Squinting at the boulder, he walked closer to it and slowly laid his fingers over a deep groove in the lettering he had carved years ago with George, Sapnap, and Bad. _His_ initial, along with George’s, was crossed out.

Dream didn’t expect to feel as utterly hurt and empty as he did. He knew this was George’s doing, and though the action alone was childish and petty, it spoke volumes. It also confirmed to Dream that it wasn’t George who saved him—he had doubted it before, but the marks under his fingertips solidified his uncertainty.

 _I drove him away. I had him,_ right here, _the last time I saw him. Why didn’t I listen to him?_

Maybe Dream wasn’t right all the time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the next chapter will be in dream’s pov again because i need to get right to the spy mission drama and i have no ideas for a george filler 
> 
> the fluff will come soon i promise. this has been v angsty so far but it’s kinda hard to write cute and cuddly shit when the two main characters cant really interact w each other


	9. nine.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dream’s mission goes better than he thought it would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> two chapters in one day? and this one’s 2.6k words?? now this is crazy
> 
> things are getting kinda juicy

The night of the mission was dark, in more ways than one. The clear skies the day prior were chased away by angry thunderclouds, and the rain was so strong it could clearly be heard through the castle walls.

Dream felt as though there were storm clouds in the castle, too.

After a sleepless night, Dream practically begged his father to reconsider his plan, attempting to explain how it was reckless and dangerous. He knew it was going to be a lost cause, but dread was forcing him to at least try. After minutes of pleading, he was sent out of the throne room with the same orders and a bruised spirit.

“I know what’s best for this kingdom! You do not—stop trying to defy me!” The King’s words saw Dream out. He wasn’t much of a crier, but his interactions with his father as of late made Dream want to sob.

 _What’s the point of being a prince and having power when I can’t even use it to keep myself and my people safe?_ He had thought wretchedly.

So, there he stood, hours later in the middle of the night, with Bad, Techno, and Fundy at his side, being coddled by servants as they double-checked to ensure their weapons and armor were secure.

All four of them were silent. Fundy and Bad looked nervous, while Techno kept his eyes trained forward as his servant fussed with the thin chainmail on his shoulder. Dream thought he looked _excited_ —it was strange and a bit concerning. There was nothing exciting about what was about to happen.

When the servants finally stepped back with bowed heads, Dream spoke to the three knights. “Remember the plan? We leave our horses in the woods a little ways away from the castle, and travel the rest of the way on foot. We may have to split up a bit, so if you’re seen by _anyone,_ go back to the horses. Got it?” They all nodded. Bad swallowed harshly, and Dream felt guilt seize him by the throat. He felt like he was sending these knights to their death.

 _Not me,_ he tried to assure himself. _Levi did this. This was_ his _idea._

Still, the guilt didn’t let go.

As they left the main hall and exited the castle, their horses were already awaiting them—they had been rounded up by the servants and were strapped with iron armor. Dream mounted his horse, wincing as the rainwater pooling in the saddle seeped through his clothes and into his skin. He stroked her silver mane, sensing she was on edge because of the storm. He prayed she wouldn’t get spooked while the knights were in the castle. If anything went wrong and their horses ran away, they would all be fucked.

Bad rode up next to him, his green eyes wide with fear. He didn’t have to say anything, because Dream knew exactly what he was thinking.

“It’s going to be okay,” he murmured to the brunette. “Just stick to the plan. If we need to leave, we will—even if we aren’t finished with the mission.”

Bad looked away. “I hope so.”

“It _will,”_ Dream affirmed, mainly trying to convince himself. “Plus, Skeppy would probably kill me if I let anything happen to you. You’ll be fine.”

Bad’s lips quirked up a bit at that, but he didn’t say anything else.

“We’re wastin’ time,” Techno interrupted from behind Dream. He turned around, meeting the tall man’s challenging gaze. The rain had slicked his long hair to his face, and even when lightning struck and thunder clapped somewhere in the distance, his eyes never waivered. A chill ran down Dream’s spine. “We’re going, Techno; and we have plenty of time,” he forced himself to say, trying desperately to keep and voice even and shake off his uneasiness at the knight’s presence. Snapping his reigns, he trotted out of the castle grounds, hearing three other pairs of hooves close behind.

They arrived at the edge of the woods, and quickly dismounted their horses, securing them under the cover of the trees. The storm was only getting worse, but Dream hoped the tree cover would block it out enough to avoid scaring the horses. Fundy and Bad exchanged glances quickly, before turning to Dream, waiting for him to lead them. Techno stood by absentmindedly, clearly not focused on the aforementioned.

“Okay, I think we’re as ready as we’ll ever be,” the blonde started. “Oh, and do _not_ attack anyone if you’re spotted. Just run; this can’t look like an invasion.”

The King never said anything about attacking—Dream suspected he would _want_ them to stop anyone in their way. But he didn’t think it would be smart to attack tonight. They had brought weapons for self defense if _they_ were attacked, but Dream hoped they wouldn’t need to draw them. starting fights would only bring more attention to the four of them, and attention was the _last_ thing they needed.

After getting verbal agreements from Bad and Fundy and a look from Techno, Dream turned and motioned for them to follow. Leaving the protection of the trees, they were greeted by pelting rain and gusts of wind. Thunder rolled overhead, and a bolt of lightning illuminated the Opal Castle in front of them.

Dream led the group around to the back of the castle, where he knew the least guarded entrances were, thanks to Sapnap. He felt guilt at the thought of his old friend, and using something that was so innocent at the time against him and his people.

Upon reaching the entrance, Dream slowly nudged open the wooden door, placing a finger over his lips to the other three. Slowly, quietly, they made it inside, and Dream, for the first time that night, was grateful for the storm—the rain was loudly pattering against the stone walls and was reverberating around the interior of the castle. It would definitely help them slink around without being heard.

Dream looked at Fundy and Techno and pointed down the hall to their right, and singled to Bad that he would come with him to the left. The ginger knight looked at Techno warily before following him, leaving Bad and Dream alone.

“This way leads to a lot of the main rooms,” Dream whispered to Bad. “Just stay close, and do _exactly_ what I tell you.”

The only time Dream was okay with giving orders was now, when his friend’s life could depend on it. Besides, Bad was clearly on the verge of panicking; Dream hoped that having instructions would be enough to ground him.

The hallway they were in was long, and the occasional lit torches were barely enough to allow Dream to see. He was thankful he had been here so many times, before the war began and the Emerald and Opal kingdoms were allies; it made navigating the halls much easier. However, being back after over a year was strange, especially since instead of being welcomed, he would most definitely be killed if he were found.

After a few minutes of turning down different hallways and getting closer to the throne room, Dream turned to Bad as they were about to round another corner.

“We’re getting closer, so be— _shit.”_

Bad was gone.

“Shit, shit, _shit!”_ Dream muttered frantically, turning to face the pitch-black corridor he had just walked from. “Bad?” He whispered. No response.

Did someone find him? _No, there’s no chance. I would’ve heard him, or someone else._

Dream took deep, sobering breaths. He probably just got lost—the dark made it easy to lose each other, and he had been keeping a faster pace than Bad. It would make sense.

He walked back down the hall, quickening his pace and whispering Bad’s name every once and a while. He ran his hands through his blonde hair, struggling to keep his composure the longer he wandered through the dark corridors. At some point, even _he_ was lost. He had _royally_ fucked up.

 _If something happened to Bad, I’ll never forgive myself,_ Dream thought. He threw his head into his hands, groaning softly.

Suddenly he felt something, or rather _someone,_ hit his back. He yelped. “Bad?”

_“Dream?”_

That wasn’t Bad.

Oh _God._

“George?” Dream breathed.

Before he could say anything else, he was shoved against the wall, George’s hand gripping the underside of his jaw with vigor. Dream thrashed, trying to get out of his grip, but that only made George tighten his hold on his face and plant a hand next to his abdomen, caging him in. He could barely see George’s form through the dark, but he could _feel_ him—the anger, the hurt, the _betrayal_ —it was burning Dream alive.

“What,” he began, “are you _doing here?”_

Dream tried to respond, but he could barely get the words out with the way George was practically choking him out. He seemed to notice and relaxed his grip, allowing Dream to gasp and inhale oxygen.

“Is this some kind of _sneak attack?”_ George hissed.

“Uh, no,” Dream spluttered, voice hoarse from George’s hold.

“Then you better explain to me why you’re here, in _my_ castle in the middle of the bloody night!”

He sounded so different than he did that night in the clearing. Instead of the nervous, guilty boy who had stood before Dream then, this George was full of confidence and cold, unbridled fury. But there was also something else—Dream just couldn’t dissect what it was.

“That’s a bit of a personal question, George,” Dream said, stalling.

“Don’t _even,“_ George nearly yelled. “You better start talking before I get my father, and he deals with you.”

“Oh, but you won’t?”

 _That_ seemed to knock George down a few pegs. “Uh, I-I—“

“That’s what I thought,” Dream leaned forward until he could feel George’s face close to his own. He lowered his voice, and murmured,“but why is that, George? What’s holding you back?”

George shuttered, and Dream felt a flash of cocky pride run through him. He backed away from the blonde, and said so quietly Dream swore he imagined it, “I thought you were going to _die.”_

“What?”

“Nothing,” George said, louder this time and with an edge to his voice.

“It _was_ you!” Dream said, shocked. That’s when it dawned on him—the feeling he couldn’t decipher was _relief._ George was relieved that Dream was okay.

George stayed quiet, which only confirmed things for Dream. Then, “Yes. It was me.”

“Why?”

“Because,” George whispered, “I couldn’t just let you die. I know you hate me, Dream, but I don’t. I don’t think I ever _could_ hate you.”

Now it was Dream’s turn to be shocked into silence.

 _Did_ he hate George? Since his mother’s death, he had—he blamed him and his entire family for it. But since their last meeting, and now George _risking his own life_ for Dream’s? He wasn’t so sure anymore.

All Dream knew was that _something_ was drawing him in, something desperately wanted to be close with George again. He had done nothing but think about the prince, nonstop, every day. He wouldn’t do that, if he hated him, right?

 _”Your friendship is stronger than a war,”_ Bad’s words reminded him.

Maybe it was.

“I-I’m sorry,” Dream said before he thought the words through. “I said some things I shouldn’t have that day, when I saw you last, and...I’m sorry.”

Holy shit, did he just _apologize?_ So much for not wanting to swallow his pride.

“It’s,” George sounded just as surprised, “it’s okay.”

The two princes were silent after that, both leaning against a wall, facing each other in the dark. Dream was surprised to realize that the air around them wasn’t awkward. There was tension, sure, but it was almost comfortable. It was almost _familiar._ The urge to be close with George was overwhelming, and the prince knew he needed to make up for what he did.

“Meet me at the clearing tomorrow.”

“What?” George said in disbelief.

 _”Please,”_ he pleaded, “just trust me.”

“Why the _hell_ should I trust you? You haven’t even told me why you’re here!”

 _Good point._ “I’ll explain everything tomorrow night. Just come. _Please,_ George.”

The burnette didn’t answer for a long time. Dream was about to open his mouth and beg him again until he finally spoke.

“I’m not promising you anything, but I’ll think about it.” His footsteps began to recede, signaling the end of their conversation. “Now get the _fuck_ out.”

Dream stayed rested against the wall in the dark hallway, listening to the prince’s footsteps fade away into the stagnant air. He threw his head back and sighed, resting there for a moment and replaying George’s words over and over.

_I don’t think I ever could hate you._

Dream was beginning to think he was crazy for ever thinking he could hate George, too.

———— 

Dream rushed out of the castle, praying the three other knights were at the meeting spot. He had searched for Bad _everywhere,_ but there was no sign of him. He was prepared to go back in and find him if he wasn’t with the horses, but Dream figured it was worth checking.

“Prince Clay! Thank God, it’s been almost an hour,” Fundy greeted the blonde, relief creasing his face.

“Where’s Bad?” he asked immediately.

“Over here,” came his response. _Thank God._ Bad was safe—he must’ve turned back as soon as he lost Dream.

Techno was already on his horse, sharpening a dagger. Dream squinted at him, and realized his armor had blood on it.

“Techno, what the hell happened?”

He shrugged. “Fundy and I ran into some trouble. I took care of them, though.”

The price stared at him, clenching his fists in anger. “What did I _tell_ you? We weren’t going to attack anyone! They’re going to see this as a threat, and they may attack before we do!”

“I wasn’t goin’ to run away like a _coward._ That makes us look weak. And besides,” he lowered his voice, “that order didn’t come from the King, it came from _you._ And I only take orders from King Levi.”

Before Dream could respond, the long haired man turned his horse around and rode off, back towards the Emerald Kingdom.

Fundy stared at Dream in shock, while Bad just muttered, “what the muffin.”

He didn’t like giving orders, and he didn’t like the special treatment he received as a prince. But _that_ wasn’t what he wanted either. Techno’s behavior was completely out of line, and it was reminding him of his father. He prayed his actions tonight wouldn’t have consequences later. Or, maybe he did—the selfish part of him almost _wanted_ something to happen so he would be proven right.

“We’ll discuss places to attack and routes to take tomorrow with the King,” was all Dream said as he mounted his horse.

“What about—“ Bad began.

Dream cut him off. “Techno? I don’t know. I’ll deal with him later.”

Yeah, later. He had more important things to think about now.

_I’ll see you tomorrow, George._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> finally dream and george actually talk about their feelings
> 
> hope u all enjoyed this chapter!! comments are always appreciated, they give me lots of serotonin


	10. ten.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George gets some answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the wait on this chapter... i wasn't feeling very motivated
> 
> hope the fluff makes up for it;)

George thought he was going insane. 

He must be, for even  _ considering  _ what Dream was asking him to do. He thought he had gotten over it when he slashed through their initials, but hearing Dream’s voice, asking,  _ begging _ George to meet him, how could he refuse? 

Besides, Dream’s change of heart confused George; last time they talked, he wanted nothing to do with him. What changed? The curiosity was getting the best of him, despite knowing meeting Dream would, once again, make George a traitor.

He stared at his reflection in the mirror of his chamber, grimacing at what he saw there. His eyes were ringed with dark eye bags, and his brunette hair was disheveled. George sighed, his shoulders slumping in defeat. 

Dream made  _ nothing  _ easy for him.

George hadn’t told his father that Emerald Knights were in their castle. Even though Dream was alone when he found him, he knew there were others around—there’s no way Dream would be stupid enough to enter into an enemy castle alone. George also recalled Dream calling out Bad’s name when he ran into him, which proved his misgivings were correct.

Dream never told George why he was there, so George didn’t know what he would tell the King. He figured he would come to a conclusion after meeting with Dream, praying he would keep his promise of explaining why he was there. 

George walked over to his large desk, gently picking up his crown. Guilt sent a shudder through his body; what kind of prince was he, when his loyalties were divided between his own people and the enemy’s prince? He didn’t deserve the power he was born into if he was knowingly abusing it. Shakily, George laid his crown back onto the cracked wooden table, the shine of the gems adorned in it blurring as tears welled in his eyes. 

George desperately hoped the servants were busy; he didn’t want any of them coming in and seeing him break down. It was embarrassing, and made him feel even worse about himself and his position as prince. 

Glancing out his window, he noticed it was midday—a long way off until he was supposed to meet Dream. The tears slowly slipped down his flushed face, and he bit the inside of his cheek to suppress his sobs.

This was going to be a  _ long  _ day.

———— 

When the sun set and the ambiance of crickets filled the night air, George’s fingers shook uncontrollably as he buttoned his thick linen shirt in a feeling he couldn’t decipher—fear? Excitement? Both? George had no idea.

All he knew is that he was finally,  _ finally _ going to see Dream. He was finally going to get answers to his burning questions.

In an attempt to curb his growing anxiety, George tried to think of this meeting as a way to  _ help _ his people, not hurt them. He would figure out exactly what Dream had been doing in his castle, and what the Emerald Kingdom had planned. This was like a  _ spy mission _ —he was gathering information to help his kingdom win the war.

But the thought only brought  _ more _ fear and guilt to George’s racing heart. He didn’t want to be  _ using _ Dream, and meeting him for the sole purpose of milking battle plans and dates out of him.

George felt like he was  _ always _ standing on the border in the clearing, a foot on each side, teetering between his own kingdom and his affection for the other prince. It was nauseating and exhausting.

He strapped his sword to his back, making up for his past mistake of not bringing it the last time he had met Dream, and laid both his shaky hands on the chilled door handles. George exhaled through his teeth, resting his forehead against the oak doors. 

He  _ prayed _ Sapnap wasn’t guarding his door, as he sometimes did at night—how would he explain to him what he was doing? He already didn’t agree with what George had done during the battle, so how would he react to discovering he was  _ meeting up _ with Dream? George knew he wouldn’t report him or anything, but he knew Sapnap would be  _ very _ disappointed and upset, and that wasn't something he wanted to be added to his conscience.

Opening the doors quietly, George let out another breath as he saw the corridor was empty—Sapnap wasn’t there. His body sagged in relief.

George swiftly walked through the castle, avoiding the floorboards he knew would creak, and made his way to the side entrance. He often would take walks through the castle late at night when sleep never came over him, so traversing through it silently was like second nature to him. He never usually saw anyone, knowing which guarded entrances and chambers to avoid, so no one besides Sapnap knew of his midnight wanderings.

Dream too, now.

George immediately mourned the loss of the warmth of the castle as he stepped out, the chilly night air slicing through his clothes. The night was clear, with a few dark clouds blocking patches of stars, as if the storm that had raged the night prior never happened. He drew in a shaky, deep breath, and began his treacherous walk to Dream.

When the trees began to thin out and the trail below his feet grew more prominent, George knew he was close. Every step he took was slower than the one prior, his nerves threatening to stop him in his tracks all-together. He forced himself to keep moving until he reached the edge of the treeline.

Peering through, his heart leapt in his throat. 

Dream was there already, perched on the top of the boulder. He wore clothes similar to Georges’, no iron or chainmail present. His blonde hair looked silver under the light of the moon and stars, his tan skin reduced to soft porcelain. He looked  _ nervous _ , reflecting the same emotions running through George as he continuously tapped the surface of the stone with his fingers.

George closed his eyes.  _ This is it, _ he thought. Taking a deep breath, he parted the bushes and entered the clearing.

Immediately, Dream’s head snapped towards him. His lips stretched in a grin. “George!” He beamed.

He didn’t want to show it, but George was just as excited, if not more, to see Dream. But he had said it himself yesterday: he had  _ no  _ reason to trust him—he needed to get answers before he let his guard down.

“You came,” Dream continued, his voice softening. “I didn’t think you would.”

“I didn’t think I would either,” George admitted, “but I need answers. A lot of them.”

He blinked, looking taken aback by George’s icey tone. “I know, and you deserve to hear them. I promise, I’ll tell you everything,” he said sincerely.

“What changed?” George asked simply, “last time you saw me here, you hated me. And now you’re begging to see me? Why?”

Dream sighed, “I figured you’d ask that first.” He patted the spot next to him, giving George a look that said, “sit.” George didn’t move at first, stifling a laugh.

“You want me to come sit with you now? Last time I checked, you’re on the other side of the border, and we’re in the middle of a war,” he said nonchalantly, slyly bringing up what Dream had said last time.

Clearly, he wasn’t as sly as he thought. “Good one, George. Just come here, and no, I won’t throw you in a dungeon,” he added. George rolled his eyes, but decided to just  _ fuck it. _ He stepped over the invisible line and hauled himself up next to Dream. He watched him the whole way, his emerald green eyes shining; George found himself struggling to look away.

“So, um,” Dream started, clearing his throat. “I said it last night, but—I’m sorry. I was really unfair to you, and I had no right to blame you for what your parents did,” George opened his mouth to defend the King and Queen, but Dream cut him off, continuing. “After I saw you that day, I realized that—maybe I was  _ wrong _ .”

George looked at him in amazement. “Dream, are you actually _ apologizing  _ to me right now?” He said with a snort.

Dream didn’t meet George’s eyes, “maybe. I mean, I did last night, too,” he muttered.

George kept going, “I can’t believe I’m witnessing the  _ great Prince Clay _ apologizing. Never thought I’d see it happen.”

“Okay, you know what? I take it back. I  _ am _ gonna throw you in the dungeon,” Dream shot back, but he had looked back at George, and his smile had returned. 

“You’re such an idiot,” George said fondly, dropping his guard and scarcely believing his life that he was sitting with Dream again, after a year of silence and mourning their lost friendship. He was pleasantly surprised to see that their conversations seemed to pick up right where they had left off now that the tension was fizzling out. “But I really appreciate your apology. I missed you a lot, you know.”

Dream smiled wider. “I missed you too.”

The two princes stared at each other for a moment, peace blanketing over them. It reminded George exactly what he had lost, and he didn't understand how he had even  _ lived _ without him. He was so enveloped in giddy happiness it  _ hurt _ , and when he felt Dream’s heated fingers gently brush his own against the chill of the boulder, he thought he might just pass out.

But George knew that even with this new development, there were still things he did not understand, still barriers and obstacles that kept him and Dream apart. “Dream,” George nearly whispered, “what were you doing in my castle last night?”

Dream pulled his hand away from where it rested by George’s, his expression shifting. “I, um—I—I was spying,” he murmured. Closing his eyes, he continued, “I didn’t want to, I  _ knew _ it was a mistake and that it was dangerous, but my dad wouldn't listen to me. He  _ never _ listens to me,” his voice raised and his words ran together hurriedly. “He’s crazy, George. He’s absolutely insane. I don’t know what to do.”

George stared at Dream in shock, once again surprised by Dream’s words. He knew that the prince and his father never had a good relationship, but there was no denying that he was a good King, at least before the war began. Was his treatment of his son expanding to the rest of his kingdom, too?

“I’m so,  _ so _ sorry,” Dream said when George didn’t respond. “I only did it because I have to. I want this war to end, but I don’t know how much further he’s going to go.”

George laid his hand over Dream’s, and looked into his eyes, which were red and glassy. His heart broke—Dream didn’t cry. “It’s okay,” he said softly with all the sincerity in the world, “this war’s made everyone do things they regret, or don’t want to do in the first place. It’s—it’s not easy for anyone.” George turned his body, and brought his other hand to cup Dream’s cheek. He wiped the single tear that fell off of his face with his thumb as Dream closed his eyes and leaned into George’s palm. He sniffled, and raised his arm to cover George’s hand with his own.

“No,” he whispered brokenly. “It’s not.”

He opened his eyes after a long moment, moving his hand to grip George’s wrist and lower their arms down. He then pulled George into an embrace, his arms wrapped around his waist tightly. George, shocked, hugged him back, closing his eyes and allowing himself to melt into his hold. 

“Thank you for saving me,” he murmured into George’s hair.

George smiled against his chest.

“I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guys they hugged!!!!!!!
> 
> i have another fic going too!! you can check it out here!  
> oh and i have a twitter! it’s @nep_tunne , i post art there so if ur into mcyt fanart also, hmu


	11. eleven.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The real battle begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> update: fixed the formatting
> 
> **blood and violence is a big part of this chapter
> 
> enjoy!!

“And where have  _ you _ been?”

Dream stood in shock before the King, staring up into his blazing eyes with a hand on his bedroom door as he hovered over him.

He didn’t understand how he was cursed with the  _ worst _ luck; he had been hoping he could sneak back into his chamber after seeing George, without meeting any guards or waking anyone up. Typically, Dream could with ease—but he didn’t account for a random meeting with the royal guard in the middle of the night. 

“You weren’t in your chamber when the servants came to fetch you, so  _ where were you? _ ” The King continued when Dream didn’t respond, voice hardening further at the end.

Dream drew himself to his full height, making eye contact with his father. “I couldn’t sleep, so I took a walk,” he replied. When the King didn’t respond, he added, laced with sarcasm, “what, is that not allowed?” 

“Not when you’re needed in your royal court.”

“This was never planned, so how was I supposed to know?” Dream shot back. Usually he didn’t make a scene in front of the court like his father did, but guilt and nerves from being caught was making him reckless. 

Surprisingly, his words shut him up. He gave Dream one final glare before turning to the three knights who had accompanied him to Dream’s chamber. “Come, we’re wasting time,” the King muttered, turning away from Dream and marching towards the throne room. Sighing in both exhaustion and frustration, Dream followed. He was already reeling with emotional whiplash from him and George’s meeting, and all he had wanted to do was climb into his soft, velvet sheets and sleep for a day. 

Once they reached the throne room, the King wasted no time explaining why they were there. “We’re attacking the Opal Castle at dawn.”

“So soon?” Dream couldn’t help but interrupt. “We  _ just  _ went on the mission to find good routes. Are we even ready?”

His father turned to him sharply. “We’ve been preparing for this for  _ months _ . We have the element of surprise, and we know how to get around easily,” he said it to Dream as if he were a child, speaking slowly so each word sunk in. Dream narrowed his eyes—it was extremely condescending.

“You’re all to join us in the battle,” he continued, addressing the rest of the court. “I have other knights I have spoken to who will stay behind and guard the castle, just in case the Opal Kingdom has something planned as well, though I highly doubt it.”

“What’s our goal?” Fundy spoke up.

The King looked up from the table, smiling sadistically.

“To capture and kill the royal bloodline.”

As he continued speaking, explaining where they would strike and how they would achieve this “goal,” Dream tuned him out, his blood running cold.

_ Kill the royal bloodline. That means… he’s going to kill George. _

He felt sick. He had  _ just _ made amends with George, and now his death was written into their battle plans. Dream already knew what he was risking by even meeting with him, but this added  _ multiple _ more layers of strain.

_ I need to protect him _ , Dream thought. He glanced over at his father, shivering at the cold fire that seemed to burn in his eyes.

_ But how can I? _

———— 

Dream had never put his armor on slower. 

He looked at himself in the mirror, feeling guilt swallow him whole. He imagined George, asleep peacefully in his bed, completely unaware he was now a wanted man. 

_ “It’s okay,” _ his words reminded Dream.  _ “This war’s made everyone do things they regret. It’s not easy for anyone.” _

But Dream knew he couldn’t live with the regret if George died today—If he died and Dream did nothing to help him.

_ He saved me. Now, I need to save him. _

Running a hand through his hair, he sighed and sat on the edge of his bed, burying his face in his hands. He was supposed to be meeting the army at the front of the castle, but he couldn’t get himself to move. Dread weighed him down, heavier than the iron attached to his body.

A knock on his door made him jump. “Yes, I know, I’m coming,” he muttered, mostly to himself. He stood up and reluctantly strapped his shield to his arm and sheathed his sword, then trudged to his door. Upon reaching it, it opened, revealing Fundy.

“Are you ready to go, Sir?” Despite his respectful manner, Dream could detect genuine concern in his words as well. It was enough to not make him want to cry.

Dream simply nodded, too tired and upset to answer with words, and headed towards the rest of the army, not bothering to check if Fundy was behind him.

The ride to the castle was long, and Dream noticed that he wasn’t the only one uncomfortable with the battle, though he knew it wasn’t for the reasons he was. Most of the knights had their heads bowed, and Bad looked like he wanted to cry. 

If Dream wasn’t close with George, he would  _ still _ think the plan was barbaric and evil—and it was clear the knights shared the same sentiment.

When they reached the edge of the treeline where Dream, Techno, Fundy, and Bad had left their horses the day prior, a fresh wave of dread washed over him. He was here, once again, but for an even worse reason this time.

Blindly handing his horse’s reins to a servant, he walked over to Bad, who was alone with Skeppy. He patted his shoulder. “You okay?” He murmured, already knowing the answer.

He raised his head slowly. “I’m scared, Dream,” he breathed. “I don’t want to do this.”

“I don’t either,” he replied. He desperately tried to think of something else he could say to comfort him, but he had nothing. How could he reassure Bad, when he couldn’t even reassure himself?

Bad seemed to understand, his eyes softening as he looked into Dream’s. Then, “Geppy, can you give me and Dream a minute?” Skeppy blinked, but nodded nonetheless, turning and walking towards the bigger crowds of the army, hunched underneath the trees.

When he was out of earshot, Bad turned to Dream again. “You’re thinking about George, right?”

Dream nodded, looking away. “I saw him last night,” he mumbled. “That’s why I wasn’t in my chamber. And in the castle, when we went on the mission and I lost you.”

Bad looked at him in shock and amazement, but Dream continued before he could interrupt. “You were right. I couldn't let him go, and I don’t hate him. I don’t think I ever did.”

Bad smiled slightly. “I knew you’d figure it out in the end,” he said. “I’m proud of you.”

“But don’t you see?” Dream fought to control his voice, “we’re supposed to kill him! But I can’t. I  _ cannot  _ kill him,” his hands balled into fists. “And I won’t let  _ anyone  _ hurt him.” 

Bad was silent for a moment. “Then protect him,” he said, like it was the simplest thing in the word.

“But how can I?”

“Honestly, I don’t really know,” Bad admitted. “But you will. You’re  _ Dream _ . You’re one of the smartest people I know, and when you care about something, you’ll find a way to protect it.”

Dream smiled for the first time since he had seen George. Bad was right. He was Dream _. _ Not Prince Clay, not Sir, not Your Highness,  _ Dream. _

And as long as he’s alive, no one would hurt who he cared about. 

———— 

_ Clang! _

The sound of iron dropping to the ground rose above the noise of the fighting—the castle, usually spacious and quiet, was alive with it.

The knight quickly turned his head towards his sword that had been knocked out of his hand, shuffling backwards. The blade in front of him tapped his armored chest in warning.

“Get out of here,” Dream spat through his helmet. The defenseless knight didn’t hesitate to back away and run.

He stood for a moment, surrounded by armoured bodies and endless fighting. Taking a deep breath, he plunged through the gaps, narrowly avoiding blades and shields, with one thought on repeat:  _ Find George. _

After his heart-to-heart with Bad, Dream knew exactly what he needed to do—get George out of the castle, no matter the cost. He figured he was in his chamber, knowing he wasn’t much of a fighter, so Dream thought that would be the best place to start. 

As he rounded a corner, he slammed into an Opal knight, knocking him off balance. Dream froze, recognizing the shield strapped to his arm in an instant: it was the same knight that almost killed him.

Dream narrowed his eyes. He wasn’t going to be beaten that easily again.

The knight drew his sword and aimed for Dream’s chest, but he was ready. He blocked the blow with his shield, pushing back with all his might to throw him off balance again. Sword in hand, Dream swung, digging the blade into the knight’s shoulder.

Hissing in pain, the knight kicked at Dream’s legs, attempting the same move he had pulled the last time. Dream braced himself for the impact, so instead of toppling backwards, he only stumbled. Angrily, he pushed back on his feet and lunged forward, slamming his shield into his chest and finally pushed him to the floor. 

Dream placed his boot in the center of the knight’s chest, digging into it while holding his sword to his neck. “Do you surrender?” Dream panted.

The knight didn’t reply, but squirmed, trying to push Dream off. “I said,” he dug his foot in harder, “do you surrender?”

The knight stilled. “Yes,” he breathed, almost inaudibly. Pride coursed through Dream’s blood. He won. 

He sheathed his sword and gave the knight one final kick before continuing his personal mission; as much as he was proud of himself for that fight, he hoped it didn’t give his father more time to find George. 

Dream finally made it to George’s chamber. For a moment, the sight brought him back to a time when they were kids, George showing Dream his room while their parents finalized a trade deal. 

It was jarring how much had changed, both between them and their kingdoms.

The door was ajar, Dream noticed as he got closer. Opening it fully, his stomach dropped.

“No,” he choked out.

The room was empty, but there was blood on the floorboards, and the sheets of the bed had been thrown to the ground. He collapsed onto his knees.

Dream had failed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the cliffhanger (no i’m not)
> 
> follow me on twt @nep_tunne (if u want lol)


	12. twelve.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taken as a prisoner, George fears his time’s running out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was gonna wait and post this in a couple days, but i felt bad for the cliffhanger so you’re all welcome😚😚 i’m not proud of this chapter at all but hey at least you get some closure
> 
> **blood and violence, once again
> 
> hope u all enjoy!! also thanks for over 100 kudos and almost 2,000 hits, that’s kinda sick

The sound of water dripping onto the cold, hard ground echoed around the silent, dark room. Hazy, yellow light filtered through the small gaps between the iron bars, just barely illuminating the floor. Dust particles danced in the still air, nothing disturbing them as they floated past the shafts of light.

Another drop of water hit the stone. Then another, then another, the sound bouncing off the walls.

A figure stirred in the corner at the noise, blinking slowly as the world formed around him. His head throbbed, and his body felt heavy and sore from laying on the freezing ground for—how long? He had no idea.

Raising his arms, he realized his wrists were surrounded by black clasps, held together by a heavy, metal chain. His biceps shook at the strain of holding them up, so he let his arms drop back to the floor in defeat.

_ Okay, I’m in a dungeon, clearly, _ he thought.  _ But how did I get here? _

Mind racing, he tried to think back to where he had been before he woke up there, but all that came to mind were loud yells, iron on iron, and a force knocking him to the floor. Why, and by who, he had no idea.

He laid back down on his side, curling in on himself and wincing at the drag of the chain across the floor. Closing his heavy eyelids, he fell asleep once again.

———— 

_ George’s chamber doors swung open, revealing Sapnap, his chest heaving and face glistening with sweat. “George,” he gasped, “the Emerald kingdom—they’re here.” _

_ Standing up straight from his slouched position by his desk, George looked at his friend. “R-right now?” _

_ “Yes, right now!” He yelled, stress clearly evident in his tone. “I just—I need you to stay here, okay?” _

_ “What do you mean? I can fight, Sapnap. I’m not helpless.” _

_ “I never said you are. But I’m not arguing with you right now,” Sapnap hissed. “You have  _ no idea  _ how many there are—it’s like they brought their entire kingdom!” _

_ “Then that’s even more reason for me to—“ George began. _

_ “George, I don’t give a shit that you’re the prince right now. Just  _ listen to me,  _ you absolute nimrod, and stay here! I’m trying to protect you.” _

_ Before George could say another word, Sapnap put his helmet on and closed the doors. He knew he was still there, on the other side of his chamber, but Sapnap clearly wasn’t going to listen to George’s protests, so he didn’t bother calling out to him.  _

_ Instead, George crossed the room to his armor stand, quickly strapping the chainmail on his body. Even if Sapnap was going to protect him, there was no reason for him to sit in his room and do nothing; he might as well be prepared for a fight. _

_ As he was about to lift his chestplate off the rack, he heard fast footsteps approaching his door, followed by a muffled gasp from Sapnap. Then, the clang of swords against each other. George froze, paying attention to the sounds of the fighting. He flinched at the loud thump against the floor, but relaxed when he heard Sapnap laugh.  _

_ The footsteps suddenly picked up again, receding quickly. “Get back here!” George heard Sapnap roar, his own steps fading until all was quiet. _

_ He was alone now. George tried not to panic. _

_ Shakily, he secured the chainmail to his torso, attempting to focus all of his energy into the task instead of letting his stress consume him. _

_ His head snapped sharply back to his closed door when he heard movement outside. He backed up slowly. _

_ “S-Sapnap?” He called out. No answer. His back hit the edge of his bed with a dull thump. _

_ His chamber door creaked open. George took a sharp intake of air. Looking wildly around, he realized with dread his sword was across the room, and not with his armor.  _

_ He was completely defenseless. _

_ The door opened fully, revealing a freakishly tall man, with long, dirty blonde hair and piercing green eyes. His left hand grasped an emerald-studded blade, which shone under the lights in George’s chamber. His lips cracked into a sadistic smile when his gaze met George’s. _

_ “Hello, Prince George. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” He greeted chillingly, taking a step forward. _

_ “L-Levi,” George breathed. _

_ He continued, chucking deeply. “I didn’t expect this to be so easy. The prince, completely unguarded? They’re practically handing you over to me!” With that, he launched himself toward George, his arm behind him as he arched his sword to land a fatal blow. _

_ Thinking quickly, George threw himself on top of his bed, using it to cross to his sword. _

_ But Levi was quicker; he gripped the end of George’s velvet sheet and ripped it backwards, taking George off his feet and making him land on the floor face-first. He gasped at the sharp pain in his jaw at impact, and felt the steady flow of blood pour from it. _

_ He felt a foot meet his ribs as he was forcibly kicked onto his back, blurily staring up at the Emerald King’s crazed eyes.  _

_ “Too easy, indeed,” he murmured. His heavy boot lifted off the ground, drew back, and met George’s head. At contact, his eyes immediately shut and the world went black. _

———— 

George jolted awake, wincing as he sat up. He was still in the cell, the light still filtering through, completely unchanged; it was throwing him off, jumbling his perception of time and how long he had been asleep. 

Suddenly, the door opened. George pressed his back against the wall, flinching as more unnatural light flooded the room. A knight stood in the doorway, holding a small glass of water and a morsel of bread. Setting it in front of him, the knight spoke, with a heavy accent, “this is all you get until tomorrow.”

George glanced at him, shakily grabbing the water and drinking it quickly, soothing his throat that he was just now realizing was painfully dry. The knight watched as he finished the food, and took the glass back from his grasp.

“Where am I?” George rasped out, barely recognizing his own voice.

“The Emerald Kingdom,” the knight answered, sounding surprised. “Do you not remember getting here?”

George shook his head. 

“The King brought you here. He’s holding you until your…execution,” the knight informed him.

George froze.  _ Execution? _ “W-why?”

“You’re the prince of the Opal Kingdom, and King Levi needs to,” he swallowed thickly, “ _ eliminate _ all of the royal bloodline.”

When George didn’t respond, the knight stepped backwards, looking uncomfortable. “You’ll be brought food and water again tomorrow,” he repeated. He turned and closed the door, the echo of it hitting the frame echoing.

George slumped backwards, processing what he had just heard. He was going to be  _ stuck here _ , for  _ who knows  _ how long, just to be publically killed? Fear gripped his heart—he felt like crying, but couldn’t, feeling as though all the moisture had been sucked out of his body, despite the water he had just drank.

So the  _ King  _ had captured him—that must’ve been the person behind the force that he fuzzily recalled. Thinking harder, he could vaguely remember his eyes, and the evil glint in their depths. 

_ “He’s absolutely insane,”  _ Dream’s words flashed in his mind. 

Dream.

Does he know what his father did to George? Is he even aware he’s on his kingdom’s grounds, rotting in a prison while he waits for his death?

If he was to be killed, he hoped Dream wouldn’t see it. 

———— 

Days passed. George spent the majority of it sleeping, desperately trying to escape his whirling thoughts and the reality of what was going to happen to him. 

Hours after he had been given his daily drop of water and crumb of bread, voices roused him from his sleep. Opening one eye, George strained to make out the words.

“—Are you sure? I’ve only been guarding him for a couple hours,” one said.

“Yes, I’m sure,” the other replied softly, and George, in his hungry and exhausted state, couldn’t tell if he recognized the voice or not.

“Thank you, my prince,” the first voice said.

_ Prince.  _ George turned the word over in his head.  _ Wait, does that mean… _

A pair of footsteps receded, and a faraway door shut. Silence followed, and George hesitated to call out, just to be sure he was right.

But before he could make up his mind, his cell opened.

With his left hand against the door and his right resting against his scabbard, a tall, blonde boy stood in the doorframe, shoulders squared tensely. 

“Get up,” he said. “I’m getting you out of here.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes dream get your man
> 
> follow me on twt @nep_tunne


	13. thirteen.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dream and George make their escape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i’m very proud of this chapter, and gah damn i’m so excited to finally get to this part of the story where we can actually get some dnf action... so like... the whole reason why you’re here
> 
> i hope you all enjoy!!

Dream swung the heavy cell door open, squinting slightly to make out the features of the prisoner. As he looked up with wide, terrified eyes that were unnaturally sunken into his head, Dream’s heart broke. He looked so small, so fragile; Dream cursed himself once again for not being able to protect him.

All he could do now was make it up to him, and finally right his wrongs. “Get up, I’m getting you out of here.”

George sat up slowly, blinking quickly and looking Dream up and down. “Dream? Is that really you?” He questioned weakly.

“Of course,” he replied. “Now, come on. We have to do this quickly.”

But George didn’t move. Instead, he held up his arms slightly, bringing Dream’s attention to his chained wrists.

“Oh, okay… um, hold on,” Dream turned, glancing around the stone hallway until his eyes landed on the key rack. “Hold on,” he repeated again, afraid that George would think he was leaving him if he disappeared for even a second. 

Dream closed the cell door quietly, then ran over to get the key that would release George. As fast as he could muster, Dream returned to the cell and kneeled by the prince, holding each wrist gently as he turned the key into the cold metal of his fetters. George struggled to keep his eyes open as Dream worked, becoming more lethargic with each passing second. It sent a jolt of fear through Dream; he needed to get him out of here  _ now. _

“Stay awake for me,” Dream pleaded, holding George’s head up with his hand, desperately trying to hold his hooded gaze. “I’m here now, and you’re going to be okay.”

George didn’t respond, and his head seemed to get heavier in Dream’s palm. He took a sharp intake of air. “I’m gonna carry you out, okay?” A weak nod was his reply—good enough—he was still conscious. Dream reached out, gripping George’s armpits and hoisting him onto his body. As Dream stood, he felt the smaller’s legs hook loosely around his waist, and he secured him further by placing a hand under his thigh. 

He turned and ran out of the cell, his fear spiking. If he was caught now, with the Opal prince in his arms, it was  _ over. _ Dream had begun to plan their escape in his head the  _ second _ he found out what his father had done, and had tweaked it so it was completely foolproof.

Dream turned down the narrow hallway, heading in the opposite direction of the door—he couldn’t go out the way he came, since there were more knights stationed at the main entrance. The prince was both grateful and concerned that George was so light, running at a considerably fast speed for someone with a full-grown man in their arms.

Finally, Dream reached his destination. Huffing, he lowered George onto the floor, swallowing thickly at the sight of him. He felt cold guilt well in his throat, but he choked it down; Dream needed to be focused on the task at hand—he’d feel sorry for himself after he and George were safe.

Placing his palms against a stone in the wall, Dream pushed it forward, grunting with the effort. It slid out quickly, hitting the grass on the other side with a  _ thump. _

He pushed the surrounding stone bricks out of the wall until there was a decently-sized hole. Dream wiped his hand against his brow before turning back to George. He picked him up again and squeezed out of the gap. He blinked as his eyes adjusted to the natural light, looking towards the forest that was turned golden by the setting sun. 

Lifting George higher onto his body, Dream walked to the treeline. Turning back, he glanced up at the high towers of his castle. No, not  _ his  _ castle—not anymore. He knew that he could never go back there, not after what he had just done. One of the guards would come to fetch him in a few hours to take his shift, only to find both the prisoner and prince gone; they would know Dream let him go.

He trudged through the thick undergrowth until he reached his horse, who looked slightly uncomfortable with the weight of the supplies Dream had strapped to her saddle. He took a deep breath before putting a boot in the stirrup and hauling himself up, gently seating George onto the saddle before joining him.

“Put your arms around me,” Dream said. George silently obeyed, locking his hands together on Dream’s stomach. He prayed George’s weak grip would be enough to hold him steady during the ride. Snapping his reins, he guided his horse through the forest, refusing to look back.

Dream had made his choice.

————

Night had fallen by the time Dream deemed the two of them far enough away from the Emerald Kingdom. They were still deep in the forest, miles away from the nearest village, which Dream saw as more of a blessing than a curse. 

Dismounting his horse and bringing George down with him, he leaned the Opal prince against a tree. Returning to his horse’s saddle and rummaging through one of the leather satchels, he heard George stir behind him. 

“Do you have any food?” He rasped. Dream whipped his head around sharply, shocked and relieved to hear George finally speak. He had been completely silent throughout the ride, teetering on the edge of consciousness the whole time.

“Yeah, hold on,” Dream replied hurriedly, digging through his satchel until he pulled out a cloth and a leather water pouch, bringing the items over to George’s side. He took them from Dream’s hands, his eyes lighting up as he shakily unwrapped the cloth to reveal a pastry the blonde had stolen from the castle’s kitchen. 

While George ate, Dream collected nearby logs and sticks, pulling them into a pile and lighting a fire with his strike-a-light. He sat back, watching the flames grow and fan upwards, radiating a gentle glow in the darkened forest. He glanced up at George, his face lit a soft orange and his brown eyes dilated as he stared into the fire. A fuzzy feeling erupted in Dream’s stomach.

He didn’t realize he was staring until the other prince looked up, offering him a soft smile. “What?” He asked.

“Nothing, nothing… just,” Dream trailed off. “I’m sorry.”

George raised an eyebrow. “For what? You literally just saved my life,” he raised his head from where it was leaning against the tree stump. “Which I just realized I never thanked you for. So, thank you.”

He looked away, caught off guard by the flustered feeling in his gut. “Yeah, no problem. I kinda owed you anyway, after you saved  _ me.” _

“You don’t owe me anything, Dream,” George answered quietly. 

_ I owe you so much, _ he thought. He looked back up, a confused expression creasing George’s face. ”Okay, well, I wasn’t going to just… let you be executed,” he said instead. 

“But you can’t go back now,” he said, his voice tapering off at the last words as if the fact just dawned on him. “Dream, you can’t go back,” George repeated, louder this time.

“I know,” Dream murmured calmly.

George gasped, struggling to sit up further. “I—why would you do that then? You should’ve just left me there so you could stay!” His voice cracked with guilt, staring across the crackling flames at Dream.

The blonde immediately stood up and hurried to sit next to George, who turned slightly to the side to face him. His eyes were wide and his breath was coming out in a quick, shallow rhythm—Dream was terrified this realization would be too much on his already weakened body. “Why would you do that?” he whispered.

“I couldn’t leave you there,” Dream said. “And I needed to make up for what I’ve done.”

“But—“

“I don’t  _ care  _ about my kingdom, George,” Dream cut him off, “there’s… there’s nothing left for me there.” He thought about his mother, her laugh, her courage—how she had been taken away from him, leaving him alone in the chaotic aftermath of his father’s fury. Dream hung his head.

“There  _ has  _ to be!” George protested. “They’re your people, your  _ family. _ It’s where you grew up, and where you lived your entire life. You’re the  _ prince,  _ for God’s sake. Why did you give that all up?”

Dream clenched and unclenched his fists, frustrated that George didn’t understand. Saving him was the only option Dream had; it was as simple as that. And if that entailed abandoning his kingdom, then so be it.

“Look,” Dream sighed, looking up again, “I’ve been thinking about rescuing you ever since I found out my dumbass father locked you in prison. I told you I wouldn't throw you in a dungeon, remember? I had to stay true to my word.”

Dream was hoping that would elicit some other emotion from the burnette, but he failed. George’s gaze never waivered, and his pained expression never let up. “I just don’t understand,” he whispered, so quietly it almost drowned in the sound of the fire popping close by. 

“You don’t need to,” Dream replied, “my point is, I knew exactly what I was doing. I knew what I was risking and what I would be leaving behind. So  _ please, _ George. Don’t worry about it.” Dream grasped George’s hand in his, rubbing his fingers along his tense knuckles. The prince looked down at their hands, his eyelids hooded as he dragged in a ragged breath. 

Dream leaned back against the tree, letting go of George’s hand but opening his arms slightly, expectantly. With a huff, George collapsed into Dream, head falling to rest in-between his chest. The blonde wrapped his arms around George’s middle, resting his chin in the strands of his hair. 

“Try and go to sleep,” he mumbled, “I doubt you’ve been sleeping well.”

“You’d be surprised,” George huffed, but nuzzled further into Dream’s chest, causing the other prince’s stomach to tense and churn unexpectedly. He laughed softly, hoping George wouldn’t notice his heart rate speeding up.

“Goodnight, George,” he said.

“Goodnight.”

Within minutes, he was asleep in Dream’s arms, his chest rising and falling gently with each breath. Pulling him even closer to his body, Dream watched as the fire slowly died, leaving nothing but a pile of glowing embers. Beyond it, he barely made out his horse, sleeping soundly in the soft ferns. Everything was silent.

It seemed as though Dream was the only living creature in the world. After months and months of fighting and stress and pain, he welcomed the silence. But, he knew that beyond his pocket of peace, there was a mad King and his knights looking for him and the boy wrapped up in his arms. Far away, chaos continued to run rampant. 

Dream wouldn’t let him or George be hurt by it ever again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this made me realize how touch starved i am lol


	14. fourteen.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Far away from home, Dream and George discover some deeply buried secrets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wrote the majority of this today while very hungover so it’s... not my best work
> 
> hope u enjoy it anyway!! love u all

“Are you  _ sure  _ this is a good idea?” George asked again.

“Yes, as long as you’re quiet, this’ll be easy,” Dream replied, turning his cloak-covered head to look at George over his shoulder.

George still wasn’t convinced. “It just feels…  _ wrong. _ Like we’re stealing.”

“We aren’t. We’re leaving coins in the shops we take from, so it’s completely fine.”

George rolled his eyes. “I don’t think that’s how it works. Your logic is flawed.”

The two princes had run out of food after three days,—George eating most of it—so they were in desperate need of more, as well as some other supplies. But due to their status as royalty and the fact that they were so far from home, Dream had come to the conclusion that they would need to go into the village at night, when no one was awake to spot them and possibly report their location to their kingdoms. It was risky, but George’s rumbling stomach reminded him that it was necessary. 

Dream turned to face George, reaching forward to put the hood of his royal blue cloak over his head. “What, are you scared?” He said, retracting his hands.

_ A little.  _ “No, of course not.”

“Aww, you are!” Dream cooed, “it’s okay, I’ll protect you.”

“Protect me? You’re really giving Sapnap a run for his money,” George replied, immediately feeling a jolt in his gut as soon as it slipped past his lips. He wondered how Sapnap was, and prayed he didn’t feel guilty for what happened to George. He probably thought he was  _ dead _ —if only he knew he was safe, with Dream. 

Dream must’ve sensed the change in George’s demeanor, because he immediately couched a little so he was at eye level with the shorter prince. “You’ll see him again,” he murmured, forcing eye contact by placing his finger under his chin and tipping it upward. George wondered if Dream felt his throat contract as he swallowed thickly from the contact.

“When are we going to go back?” George whispered, looking anywhere but at Dream’s concerned face, “you wouldn’t be hurt. I think my father would make an exception for you, since you saved my life.”

George felt cold air hit his chin as the hand holding it retracted. “I… I don’t know, George. But I don’t think we can go yet. Your kingdom is the first place the King’s going to check for us—he probably already has. It would only put us and the rest of your people in danger.”

“I know… I just miss it. And my parents… they’re probably terrified right now. They probably think I’m dead,” George said softly.

Dream was quiet for a moment, before he placed his hands on George’s shoulders. “I promise you we’ll go back soon. We just have to wait for now—but I  _ swear, _ I’ll get you home safe,” he said, his voice dropping at the end of his sentence. George suppressed a shiver at the intense look in his green eyes, the grip on his shoulders tightening imperceptibly. It seemed that his words held more weight than he was letting on. 

_ Does Dream really care about me that much? _

Before George could open his mouth to reply, or count the freckles dotting his moon-lit face, Dream stood up fully, dropping his hands. “Come on, we don’t have all night.” 

George followed Dream slowly as he strutted up the cobblestone road, not understanding how the taller prince could walk with such confidence when the risks of being seen were so high. George couldn’t tell if he was captivated by his cockiness, or annoyed.

They walked through the village in silence, George turning his head constantly to check their surroundings, and jumping at every sound. He sighed in relief as Dream turned into a small alleyway, feeling less exposed. He took quick, shallow breaths while Dream put fruit and bread from a nearby stand into his satchel. 

George looked around at their surroundings, taking in the cracked stone walls of the houses around them. The air smelled vaguely of smoke, which George could see drifting up from a brick chimney far away.

It was nice, being back in civilization—George felt like he and Dream had been wandering through the forest for  _ forever. _ The atmosphere felt pleasantly familiar, and it helped curb some of the homesickness and stress that was plaguing him.

“George, come  _ on,  _ what are you doing?” Dream said, bringing George back to the present. The burnette turned to face him, his eyebrow raised in confusion. 

“Sorry,” George muttered as he walked over to him, his anxiety spiking once again. 

Dream looked down at him, his cloak almost covering his eyes. “There’s a few more things we need, but then we’ll leave, okay?” George looked away, face flooding with heat. It shocked him how easily Dream could read his thoughts and feelings. They walked side by side, George hyper-aware of Dream’s hand brushing his own, as if he was trying to wordlessly remind him  _ I’m right here. _

The two princes rounded another corner, and George’s heart sank as they turned onto another main pathway. It was dimly lit by the few scattered lanterns and the moon overhead, and was dotted by little stands and shops. Dream rubbed his hands together as George exhaled through his teeth.

They passed a stand full of jewelry, some of it locked away and some on display. “Why would they leave some of this out? Anyone could steal it, and they all look expensive,” George whispered to Dream.

But his words seemed to go straight through the blonde, who was staring at the necklaces with a thoughtful look on his face. George narrowed his eyes, clearly seeing the gears turning in his head. “Dream?”

He turned back towards George, the pondering look gone. “Yeah, I don’t know. Whoever runs this stand must be an idiot,” he replied, knocking on the wood of the counter before walking away, George close behind.

After “buying” more food, a new dagger for George, and a bow for Dream, the blonde prince stated they had enough stuff to get by for a while. As they made their way to the ally, Dream stopped. “Um, can you go back to our camp on your own?” He asked, voice strangely quiet.

_ “What? _ Why?” George spluttered in shock. Why would Dream ditch him,  _ knowing  _ how he felt about being out in the open? 

“I wanna check something real quick. Please, it’ll be quick. I’ll probably meet up with you before you get there.”

“Why can’t I just come with you?” George demanded.

“Because,” he paused, looking flustered, “you look tired, and I don’t want you to be out here any longer than you need to.”

George felt hurt flood through him. Dream was lying; it was obvious. He was  _ clearly _ hiding or planning something, and it stung that he wouldn’t share it with him. “Okay,” he muttered, “fine.” He turned around and stormed off, not bothering to stop and listen to whatever Dream said in reply.

He walked through the village at a quick pace, praying he was going the right way back to the forest and cursing Dream for not being there to guide him.  _ He better have a good excuse for leaving me, _ he thought to himself. 

Reaching another narrow road, George started to get the feeling he was being watched. His neck was tingling, and he found himself walking faster. 

_ If someone finds me, I’m actually so dead. _

Before George could round the corner onto a wider street, he heard footsteps drumming quickly on the cobblestone. A force slammed into him before he could turn his head, and he crashed to the ground. 

George squirmed, trying to turn to face his attacker. “Get off me!” He yelled, terror and adrenaline running through him.

“‘Shuddup, bitchboy,” he responded, but he loosened his grip on George’s arms nonetheless. He sat up, adjusting his cloak and wincing at the blood and grit on his hands where he had tried to break his fall. Looking up, George got a glimpse at his attacker.

He was tall, almost as tall as Dream, with yellowish-blonde hair. He looked young, and George was frankly  _ mad _ that he had been snuck up on and tackled by a child, who also happened to be taller than him. 

The boy looked at George, squinting. “Wait, you look really familiar,” he said, making the burnette tense up.  _ Oh, shit. _

“Holy shit, you’re the guy on the posters!” He yelled. 

George blinked. _ What?  _ “Um… what are you talking about?” he asked curiously.

The blonde let out a loud cackle that George expected to wake up the entire village. “Oh, you  _ definitely  _ are. You’re the bloody  _ prince,  _ aren’t you?”

George swallowed, looking past the boy’s head at a stone wall, just then noticing the paper posted there.  _ How did Dream and I not notice these?  _ He thought, squinting at it. His breath caught in his throat when he made out the words  _ “Wanted”  _ spread across the top, with two drawings below that looked chillingly realistic.

This was  _ so  _ much worse than George expected—there was a  _ bounty  _ on their heads now? He felt dizzy as he turned back to the child who was still looming over him. “Y-you have the w-wrong guy,” he said, but his voice was shaky and weak. 

He opened his mouth to reply, a shit-eating grin on his face, but was cut off before he could say a word.

“Tommy?”

Then, another.

“George?”

The blonde boy, Tommy, looked over George’s head, his expression changing into nervousness before looking behind him. He took a step back. “Uhh—hey, Niki,” he said nervously, before snapping his gaze to Dream, who had appeared next to George’s side in an instant, helping him up. He shot Tommy a glare, but instead of being intimidated by the blonde prince, his eyes widened in excitement. “ _ You’re  _ here too? Niki, look, it’s the two princes from the posters! We’re gonna be  _ rich.” _

A blonde girl stood on the other end of the ally, looking annoyed instead of excited.“Tommy, why are you out right now?”

“Why does that  _ matter,  _ woman? I just found the two most wanted guys in the country,” he scoffed, “you should be fuckin’ grateful I’m out right now.”

Niki ignored him, gazing at the two princes as she walked up to stand beside Tommy. George felt Dream tense up, and could practically  _ feel _ the guilt rolling off of him. 

“Are you actually Prince George and Prince Clay?” She asked. When neither responded, Niki took the silence as an answer. “I’m not going to turn you in, I promise,” she ignored the loud and confused “what?” from Tommy, continuing, “I don’t care about the money—I care about the war ending. It never should’ve started at all.”

George raised an eyebrow, but before he could respond, Dream asked from next to him, “what do you mean?”

“The war between the Emerald and the Opal Kingdoms started because of a lie,” Niki replied. “They’re fighting for no reason.”

At that, Dream completely froze. “How do you know this?” He asked tightly.

“Let’s not talk here,” Niki said as she looked around, “come with us, I’ll explain everything.”

Tommy looked back and forth between Niki and the two boys, his eyes wide and mouth agape. “What the  _ fuck,”  _ he muttered, before begrudgingly following her down the road.

George glanced at Dream. “We-we’re gonna go with them, right?” All his frustration with him had faded; they had bigger issues to deal with now.

“Yes,” he answered without hesitation. He sounded on edge, nervous—it was obvious as to why.

As they followed the two villagers down the road and into a small house, George had a feeling he was about to be proven right, and that there were more secrets surrounding him and Dream’s kingdoms than he thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lore time😏
> 
> follow my twt @nep_tunne , i may also make a playlist for this fic, so i’ll link it if i end up doing it


	15. fifteen.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The truth is discovered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lore time? lore time
> 
> hope u enjoy!! i love love love u all

Dream barely registered George guiding him through the door of Niki and Tommy’s home, his head spinning. He didn’t know how to feel about anything that was going on; were they telling the truth, or was it a trap? After all, how could a random villager know things about his kingdom that even he, the  _ prince, _ wasn’t aware of?

“Please, sit,” Niki gestured towards a small wooden table and chairs. George obeyed, Dream following suit hesitantly. He watched Niki like a hawk as she lit a few candles and small lanterns, the house slowly lighting up. “Can you get our guests some tea?” she asked Tommy, who had hung back by the door, looking annoyed. 

“Why are we taking care of them? They’re wanted men, Niki,” he scoffed.

She glared at the blonde from across the house. “They’re  _ princes. _ Show some respect.”

“Fuck that,” he grumbled, but he walked over to the kitchen area nonetheless after earning another stinging look.

Dream tried not to fidget in his seat; he couldn’t tell if his discomfort was coming from the splinters in the wood, or the fact that Niki  _ still _ hadn’t explained anything. He glanced over at George, trying to find solace in the calm look in his eyes, and in his presence alone. The prince didn’t look at Dream, but the small smile that quirked his lips up showed he was aware of him staring. He looked away quickly, his face hot.

Tommy walked up from behind their seats, looming over both of them and nearly splashing the tea all over their cloaks with the force of him setting the cups down. He muttered something almost inaudible, and Dream was pretty sure it sounded something like  _ here, you bastards. _

Niki glanced at Tommy as he retreated to the far end of the house, opening a small door before slamming it behind him. Without turning, she said, “can you  _ please _ stop slamming that door?”

“Shut up, bitch!” He yelled back, his voice slightly muffled behind the wall.

“Sorry about Tommy,” Niki sighed to Dream and George, “he has… an attitude, to say the least.”

George affirmed it was okay while Dream stared at his hands in his lap, trying not to lose his carefully held composure. Niki seemed to sense his antsiness, and he saw her give him a sympathetic look in his peripheral. “It’s an honor to have you both here, but I won’t waste your time. I know you want answers.”

Dream slowly lifted his head up. “What do you know, and how do you know it?” He demanded. George turned his head sharply at his tone, but Dream ignored him.

Niki, however, didn’t make any comments about Dreams’ impatience, and her expression was unchanged. She took a sip of her own tea before clearing her throat.” Tommy and I were born in the Emerald Kingdom, in a small village fairly close to the castle. We’d lived there all our lives, and I never thought I’d leave. That is, until the war started, and we had to,” sadness laced her voice. “There was a knight in the royal guard, who you’re probably aware of, Prince Clay; Phil?”

Dream nodded, remembering the knight who had died in the first battle of the war. He never spoke to him much, but he knew Phil had been extremely loyal and dedicated to his people.

“What do you know about him?”

“Uh, well, he was really respected among the guard, and the people in general,” Dream started, confused by the question. “He died in the first battle last year.”

Niki shook her head, making the blonde’s confusion spike further. “No, he didn’t. He’s alive.”

“H-how?” Dream breathed, his eyes glued to Nikis’.  _ How many secrets are there? _

“He had to leave the Emerald Kingdom altogether because he… he saw something he shouldn’t have; the murder of Queen Jade, at the hands of one of her  _ own knights.” _

Dream thought he was going to be sick. He fuzzily registered George grabbing his hand and squeezing it, but he was too deep in shock to be comforted by it. “Who did it?” He choked out.

She was silent for a moment. Then, “Dave, or Techno, as he goes by.”

Dream closed his eyes, his head hanging slightly—if he had been standing up, he  _ definitely  _ would’ve collapsed. His grief for his mother had been in his heart since the day she died, but hearing that she had been betrayed by one of her own supposed protectors made the pain even worse, and Dream didn’t think that could be  _ possible. _ His whole body trembled, so hard it nearly hurt.

“Sh-should I continue?” Niki questioned softly, glancing at Dream warily. “I understand this is a lot, and I’m sorry you had to find out like this.”

Dream breathed in raggedly, nodding quickly. He  _ had _ to know everything else, no matter how much it hurt. 

George learned in slightly, looking into Dream’s eyes that were still staring unfocused at his cup of tea, completely cold and untouched. “Are you sure?” he asked. The gentleness in his voice calmed some of the storm in Dream’s mind, to his surprise, and it gave him enough willpower to unclench his fists and give Niki a verbal confirmation of “yes. Please, keep going.”

She nodded, swallowing thickly. “Techno has always been power-hungry and desperate for the throne. He was present during the meeting between your parents, used the fact that the trade deal fell through to his advantage, and framed the Opal Kingdom. Phil discovered the truth when he noticed Techno leave the King and Queen’s chamber, and was attacked by him once Phil… saw the body,” she said the last part quietly, as if she was afraid of sending Dream into another state of panic by mentioning it again. “He tried to kill him, too, but he escaped. He wasn’t able to go back since the last thing Techno told him was that if he ever saw him again, he’d be dead.

“Phil and I’s parents had been close, so he came to me and Tommy for help. He told me what happened, and stayed hidden in my house for around a week before,  _ somehow,  _ Techno found out where he was. Since Tommy and I now knew the truth, we were threats to Techno, too, and we all left together. We moved here, but Phil left a few months later to go live on his own, even further away,” Niki finished. “I don’t know how he’s doing, or where he ended up, but I—I hope he’s okay,” her voice was filled with nostalgia and underlined with sadness.

Dream’s thoughts whirled as he put all the pieces together; Niki was telling the truth after all. The story made  _ sense _ —he had always been wary of Techno, always felt like he was being threatened every time he even  _ glanced _ at Dream. He remembered seeing the raw excitement in his face before the spy mission, and the blatant disrespect he showed. Dream shivered, a harder tremor than the ones that were already wracking his body. 

“Thank you for telling us this,” George answered, clearly realizing Dream wasn’t in a state to speak. “This means a lot to us.”

Niki smiled sadly. “You deserve to know the truth;  _ everyone _ does. Techno has caused enough pain, and the war  _ needs _ to end before it gets worse. Or, before he becomes king.”

Dream stiffened as a thought crossed his mind at Niki’s words. Since he left, the Emerald Kingdom had no prince, no second-in-line. That meant, if King Levi died….

Techno would take over. 

_ Oh, fuck. _

Dream didn’t want to be king. He hated the responsibilities and the unreasonable amount of respect he was shown. But, he knew that he would’ve been a  _ fair  _ king, and one who actually  _ cared _ —Techno would do nothing but drag the kingdom into even more turmoil, even more so than Dream’s father.

“Now that you’re away, Techno may try and make his next move for the throne,” Niki seemed to read Dream’s mind. “I don’t know why you’re both so far away, or why you’re even  _ friendly  _ with each other, but if it’s possible, Prince Clay, you should go back to secure your spot on the throne before Techno does, and end this fucking war once and for all.”

The prince swallowed at the idea of going back, and being the one to challenge Techno and end the fighting.  _ Why does it all have to fall on  _ my  _ shoulders? _ It was all incredibly overwhelming,  _ especially  _ after the emotional whiplash he had just undergone.

“It’s… possible, but complicated. But now that we know this, I think it’ll be easier to go home,” George said for the both of them. 

Niki nodded her head. “Good. You’re needed there, and not just because you know all of this now. Even after the war ends, things will be… very broken. But you two being so close will help mend the relationship between your kingdoms.”

George smiled at Dream, his small hand still holding his, and the blonde couldn’t help but smile a little, too. 

“Do you want to stay here for the rest of the night?” Niki offered.

Dream shook his head. “Thank you, but I don’t want us to put you and Tommy in any danger.”

“It’s not like I haven’t protected a wanted man before,” she laughed slightly. “It’s really no trouble.”

“Really, it’s okay. Besides, our horse and all of our supplies are alone in the woods. We’d better get back to it before someone stumbles across it.”

Niki rose from her chair, the two princes unlinking hands and following suit quickly. “If you’re sure,” she sighed. “Just be careful on your way back.”

“As long as I don’t get tackled by a man child, I’ll be fine,” George muttered, mostly to himself, but Dream caught it.

As they reached the door, Dream turned to Niki. “Thank you,” he whispered earnestly. She didn’t respond in words, but the look she gave him said everything.

————

Dream and George made it back to their camp safely, but were exhausted by the time they collapsed against a tree. They stayed there silently side by side, the forest quiet around them.

“Are you okay?” George broke the silence, looking up at Dream with big brown eyes. 

He thought for a moment. The walk back had calmed him, and knowing the truth was beginning to feel relaxing rather than overwhelming. “Yeah, I think so. I’m just sorry I didn’t listen to you,” he said, looking away as he begrudgingly admitted, “you were right.”

“I never expected  _ that, _ though.”

“Me neither,” Dream agreed. “But now that I know, it makes sense. Techno’s insane, and I  _ always  _ had a bad feeling about him.”

George rested his head against his shoulder, causing Dream to tense up for a moment before sinking back down into the damp tree bark and the sensation of the contact. “At least you know now.”

“Yeah. I needed the closure, but I just wish I found out sooner. Maybe I could’ve prevented some of this,” Dream murmured.

The brunette scooted closer to Dream’s side. “Maybe, but the important thing is you know now, and you can prevent the  _ future _ from happening.”

Dream looked down at him, smiling softly. “You’ll help me, right?”

“What, take out Techno? Of course, you idiot. He’s my problem too!” He placed a hand onto Dream’s chest, nuzzling further into his shoulder. “And even if he wasn’t, he’s  _ yours _ . And I’d stand with you through anything.”

His heart buckled at George’s words, and his skin  _ burned  _ where his head and hand were. Without thinking, Dream leaned in and laid a kiss onto George’s forehead, smiling against it before pulling away. For a terrifying moment, Dream wondered if that had been a mistake, but the blush and the look on the other prince’s face told him that it was okay. 

“But I am still mad at you,” George said, poking Dream in the ribs. “You ditched me.”

“I had a  _ reason!” _ Dream protested.

“Oh yeah? What was it then?”

Dream sat up, mourning the loss of contact with George for a brief moment before turning and digging through his satchel. His hands lightly grazed what he was looking for after a moment. “Close your eyes, Georgie,” he said.

“Never call me that again,” he muttered, but his smile was clear in his voice.  _ I’ll definitely be calling him that again. _

Dream turned back to George, hooking the item around his neck before doing the same to the other prince. He sat back on his knees. “Okay, you can open them.” 

George obeyed, and looked down at his neck. His eyes lit up.  _ “Dream! _ Are you serious?” He spluttered, gently grasping the small emerald encrusted by gold on the metal necklace.

He wheezed, “what do you mean?”

“How expensive  _ was this?  _ Unless—oh my God, you better not have stolen it.”

“Oh come on, of course I didn’t steal it. In fact, I paid extra,” Dream promised.

George let the gem drop against his chest. “Why would you do this?” He asked, sounding like he couldn’t believe Dream had actually done it.

“Because I wanted to! And we’re matching, too,” he raised his own necklace, but instead of an emerald, it was a bright blue opal, flecked with shades of purple, green, and gold.

“I love it,” he whispered. “Thank you.”

Before Dream knew it, he was flat against the tree again, this time with George holding him there in a hug. The blonde chuckled, bringing an arm up and running his hands through George’s scalp. “You’re welcome, George.”

_Yeah. I_ am _okay,_ he thought as sleep overtook him. _As long as I have him, I can be okay._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> edit// fixed the ending to make it less abrupt
> 
> comments are vv appreciated!! they help my writing confidence😪


End file.
